


When You Know, You Know

by ChaoticFriendly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (More Tags to be Added as Needed), (Sorry This is a Mess), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, But Not in the First Chapter You Heathens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MIND THE TRIGGER TAGS, Other Ships to be Added in Future Chapters, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, TRIGGER TAGS COMPLETE, and SMUT, bromance and romance, mild homophobia, there will be cats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticFriendly/pseuds/ChaoticFriendly
Summary: A story in which Suga needs some support (and a hug), Oikawa needs to chill out, Kuroo needs to butt out, Iwaizumi needs to learn to trust, and Daichi gets bi- I mean- by with a little help from his friends.——Alright bestie, from me to you— please please mind the tags because I care about you and your mental health. (Appropriate warnings will be put at the starting Notes of each chapter for those wishing to avoid the uncomfortable bits.)This is a finished fic and will update every Friday, so ... here we go?{Don’t mind me, I’ll just be a dramatic bitch in the end notes every week for the next [checks notes] fifteen weeks :’) }
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 45
Kudos: 45





	1. An Auspicious Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga and Oikawa stop by a party and make some new... friends?   
> Oikawa gets a ... date?   
> Iwaizumi definitely gets the start of an ulcer.   
> Daichi gets flustered.  
> Kuroo gets ideas.

\---

**INCOMING MESSAGE - SUGAWARA’S PHONE**

**Prettykawa:** I’ve suddenly come down with something terrible.  
**Suga:** Chlamydia? I told you cruising dive bars was going to come back to haunt you  
**Prettykawa:** No, you awful man! I’m overcome with jealousy and I absolutely cannot go tonight. Send the happy couple my most horrible regards.  
**Suga:** YOU are horrible, but you’re coming.  
**Suga:** You know I hate going to group things alone, and we LOVE the happy couple.  
**Suga:** I’m going to be at your door at 7:00. Wear the blue shirt and your contacts.

 **Suga:** Tooru.  
**Prettykawa:** (눈_눈)  
**Prettykawa:** Fine. But I won’t enjoy it.  
**Prettykawa:** See you at 7:00. Make sure you wear the pants that make your butt look good.  
**Suga:** They ALL make my butt look good, Tooru.  
**Prettykawa:** I know.  
**Suga:** Fine. You’re not completely horrible  
**Prettykawa:** (¬‿¬)

\----

  
Oikawa Tooru is accustomed to being the most attractive person in the room (if he does say so himself). Soft brown hair artfully arranged to fall _just_ so over lighter brown eyes, long legs accentuated by pants tailored to his tall frame, and a smile that instantly made men and women alike pause mid-sentence. What is all that good for if not to be ogled?  
  
Despite all this, however, a slight frown momentarily pulls his handsome features into something twisted as he tugs his light blue button-down into place. Tonight isn’t supposed to be about him, but about a coworker’s, (no, no- a good friend’s) engagement. He can tone down his dazzle and be happy for someone else’s perfect love story for a few hours. (well, he can fake it anyways)  
  
The sound of a throat clearing pulls him from thoughts that were edging dangerously towards self-pity. Sighing prettily, he looks down to make knowing eye contact with his companion. Peering up from just shoulder-height, practically petite next to Oikawa’s large but lanky frame, his friend’s hazel eyes sparkle with understanding as he takes in Oikawa’s expression.  
  
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to _actually_ be happy for them. Probably.” The voice is teasingly sweet even beneath the light sarcasm.

Oikawa’s face crumples, his reply coming out with more of a whine than he intends, “But why should someone as beautiful as I take the risk?”  
His friend chuckles indulgently. After years of working together, becoming friends, and, more recently, living just down the hall in the same apartment building, Oikawa was begrudgingly aware that Sugawara Koushi knows all about the turbulent moods and insecurities he tries to keep hidden. But when Oikawa is determined to be… well, Oikawa, there wasn’t much that could be done.  
  
Just because he loves his friends doesn’t mean he loves the sense of loneliness that accompanies his every movement some days. Sure he has Koushi, but that’s not remotely the same as being face-to-face with the complete and utter adoration he’s about to have to choke down for the next few hours. He resists the urge to pull his mouth into a pout, even as his stomach roils a bit in revolt.  
  
Koushi remains still, watching him carefully like a hawk assessing a fledging for their potential to fly or fall. It cows him a bit and, instead of further dramatics, Oikawa allows himself only one petty sigh. He tamps down any remaining guilt by reminding himself he is very capable of much more than general brattiness. (this really is not the worst he could be, Koushi should be grateful)  
  
Refocusing on his Koushi, Oikawa’s gaze catches on slender fingers running through silver hair, smoothing a few short locks that don’t quite fit into the little ponytail at the nape of his neck. There’s the gust of a long-suffering sigh in response to his own huffed breath, and when his friend looks up again, his gaze is a little more resolute. Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek— apparently he wasn’t getting away with the attitude entirely. No fun.  
  
Koushi speaks up again, nudging Oikawa with obvious affection this time. “Come on, Tooru. I’ll get the first round to help ease the pain of your possible demise.”  
  
He offers up a cheeky wink and Oikawa obligingly shares a half smile in response, appreciating Koushi’s presence as he quietly regards the shorter man a little more closely. He looks okay, he looks ready for this. Maybe somehow more ready than Oikawa himself is. Not that the idea of Koushi being stronger than Oikawa is surprising. After all he’s been through this year, the one thing that Oikawa is certain about is Kou’s strength. Sometimes he wishes he had a little more of that steel in his spine, too. (emotionally, that is. physically, Oikawa is an absolute specimen after all.)  
  
So, it’s established that generally speaking, Oikawa is the most gorgeous man in any given room. However, he’s man enough to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it’s Koushi who collects everyone’s eyes once they’ve adjusted to being blinded by Oikawa’s megawatt smile. He’s slender but strong, and yet within that poised frame Oikawa knows there’s likely some nervous energy being carefully concealed, like soft pewter clouds that hang low in the sky— lovely to see, but hiding something bigger brewing above.  
  
Oikawa lets out one more pretty, only slightly regretful sigh before hooking his arm through Kou’s, startling him slightly. Sharing a bolstering look, they each put on a smile (one falsely bright, one slightly gritted) and Oikawa propels them forward, entering the warm glow of the bar’s interior.  
  
\---  
  
The party is supposed to be a lowkey affair, a small gathering of adult friends to celebrate an engagement. As Sugawara Koushi looks over the array of humans there, he feels his chest tighten uncomfortably while his eyes examine the faces present. Sweeping back over the room, he exhales once, softly. It’s like this every time he ventures outside of his safe places, like his apartment or office. Fear grips his chest with cold iron bars until he’s sure he knows everyone in his sight (and equally sure he knows who is _not_ present).  
  
Relaxing slightly he rolls his shoulders once and exhales a chilly breath, looking around to take in more than just the people. It probably seems odd, him hovering in the doorway like this, but Suga is pretty sure he only knows three of the people here anyways, so he can’t really bring himself to be bothered if he’s acting curiously.  
  
The group has the entire bar to themselves and Suga realizes belatedly that it’s kind of a nice bar? It’s not gross or sticky and it doesn’t reek of Fireball and bad decisions like many of Oikawa’s preferred haunts. It doesn’t make sense that the place is this empty on a Saturday night, but Suga can hardly complain about that. He hasn’t exactly been a social butterfly for a while now.  
  
Leaning against the doorframe, he takes in the soft lighting from heavy wall sconces, noticing the wrought overhead fixtures bathing everyone in a flattering golden haze. Guests lean against the bar waiting for drinks, sit around tables to talk, or otherwise drape themselves over plush green couches and soft leather armchairs.  
  
He eyes a large chair in the corner that looks particularly cozy, already thinking about sneaking off to charm a server into bringing him a cup of tea there before the end of the night. However, his planning is interrupted as his skin crawls with the familiar sensation of being watched. He holds in a shudder, reminding himself that it’s highly unlikely that he was being watched like _that_.  
  
Looking back towards the people gathered, his hazel eyes meet with deep blue-green ones, and both sets soften fondly.  
Suga’s relief is so complete that he misses the other interested gaze that keeps flicking back to him as he stands there, haloed in the amber light.  
Breaking eye contact, he looks next to him at the empty space he thought Tooru had been occupying. He hears the familiar chirp of breathy laughter from somewhere within the bar. Obviously he’s long since left Suga behind to mingle and flirt. Sighing (why was his best friend also such a prick?) he steps inside towards the friends he knows, the safest space he can be.  
  
Settling at a small table near one of men of the hour, Suga murmurs his quiet greetings, distracted momentarily by a rowdy burst of laughter from the other side of the room. (how is it so loud when there’s barely anyone here?) Searching the long room, he finds the other guest of honor at the center of the noise, which answers a lot of questions.  
  
The top of the man’s styled hair is just barely visible as he moves around like a salt-and-and pepper tornado. Surrounded by a few equally boisterous friends, plus one tall, surly looking young man with black hair watching from just outside the circle, he’s the usual spectacle. Suga can’t help but smile at the sight, his grin now wider and less forced than before. A shock of orange hair attached to arms moves with equal enthusiasm, promptly knocking over a tray of drinks prompting the scowling dark-haired man to yell something as the others egg them on. Wincing a little at the chaos, Suga moves his attention back to the group seated around him, engaged in quiet conversation much more Suga’s speed.  
  
The engagement of gentle, thoughtful Akaashi Keji and exuberant, expressive Bokuto Kotarou might seem like a mismatch to outsiders, but as Suga allows the conversation to flow around him, he notes a little wistfully how the two men are so clearly drawn to each other. Akaashi’s calming presence is like a cool moonlit beach, still and quiet, all gentle smiles and elegant gravity. But, despite Akaashi neither moving nor looking towards his fiancé, his gravity pulls at Bokuto like the incoming tide, the other man mindlessly moving to inch closer to where Akaashi sits with each passing minute. Suga almost chuckles at this. After all he’s been through, there’s something comforting about knowing he can still get starry eyed and poetic over a nice romance)  
  
He makes no attempt to join the conversation yet, preferring to watch the engaged couple with only thinly veiled envy. While he may tease Tooru for being petty (and Tooru _is_ petty) he understands. Seeing Akaashi and Bokuto’s obvious devotion to each other isn’t a burden, but there is something bittersweet about being at these kinds of events for both Suga and his best friend.  
  
Forcing himself to take a breath, he brushes a few wisps of silver hair off of his face back towards his neck as Tooru catches his eye. Damn the man. While he is frequently a prick, he’s also observant and knows all of Suga’s nervous tells just as Suga knows Tooru’s. Re-forming the smile that had slipped a bit while he lost himself, Suga tells himself to at least _try_ being present. After all, he did chide Tooru for not wanting to partake, and here he is, basically holding court like he’s some kind of royalty. Suga holds in a fond eye roll.  
  
Waving away a tray of drinks, he focuses on the conversation just in time to hear Oikawa say, “but if Akaashi had left Bokuto for me like I begged him to…”. (oh god. where did that server get to? was it too late to get a drink?)  
  
\----  
  
Hours later after some of the younger and more energetic guests had taken their leave to hit up nearby clubs, a smaller group remained. They basked in the lovers’ glow, chatting about the upcoming wedding just four short months away. The grooms weren’t going to wait long for the big day. One of them in particular is antsy.  
  
“I already waited almost too long to propose, I can’t give him any time to reconsider!” Bokuto half-jokes from his seat on the couch.  
His large frame sprawls on the edge of a cushion, one arm casually around Akaashi’s trim waist as the leaner man perches on the couch’s arm. More than a few drinks had been passed around by now, and even some food (the pork and curry buns were delicious), all courtesy of the kindly bar owner who refused to let them want for anything.  
  
Kuroo Tetsurou may have partaken in more drinks than he had intended, but when two of his oldest friends were getting married what else was he supposed to do? (abstinence was _never_ the answer as far as he was concerned) He feels a pleasant warmth as the alcohol courses through him, but being pleasantly warm isn’t the same as being drunk. He was fine.  
  
Laughing at Bokuto’s joke, even if he’s heard it a few hundred times already, he slaps the other man’s back a bit too enthusiastically, moving to sit down on the couch across from the couple. The room spins just a little and he takes a moment to put his (6th?) beer down on the coffee table in front of him. Refocusing as he sits, his eyes sweep upward just in time to see the tall man sitting at the table next to Akaashi put on a pretty pout.  
“Oh, Oikawa-san,” Akaashi sighs fondly, with a small, teasing smile, “as if you couldn’t bring anyone you wanted to the wedding. I’m not wasting a single second feeling badly for you.”  
  
The obnoxious (but, to be fair, stunning) man holding Akaashi’s attention pushes his lower lip out further, leaning over to lay his head in Akaashi’s accommodating lap. Ever accommodating, Akaashi runs his fingers through the perfectly-tousled brown hair. Kuroo holds in a snort, eyeing this ‘Oikawa-san’ with a knowing look. He had his doubts that a man this pretty ever wanted for anything.  
  
“Akaashi, you’re so lucky to have found your soulmate in Owl-kun,” Oikawa’s voice is a whine as he flutters long lashes up at the sympathetic face above him.  
  
This time, Kuroo’s snort escapes. He realizes his mistake a second too late, cursing that (6th? 7th?) beer as sharp brown eyes narrow and turn to pierce him straight through.  
  
“Yes, Rooster-kun?” His voice changes from soft petulance to a dangerous purr as he sits back up. “Is my tragic love life a fun joke to you?”  
( _“Rooster-kun”?_ he frowns slightly, his hair is not _that_ messy. he’ll examine that more later)  
  
“Not at all,” Kuroo replies easily with a half shrug and smile. “You could have any single person in any given bar, couldn’t you?” There may actually be something of an invitation in that statement if Kuroo doesn’t think about it too hard.  
  
(is he really borderline propositioning a stranger at his friend’s engagement party? it must have been 7 beers, but he’s refusing to count the shots)  
Oikawa blinks, but it’s a softer voice off to Oikawa’s left that responds, full of wry amusement.  
  
“He can and he has.”  
  
Kuroo’s gaze shifts to the silver-haired man he had somehow missed before. If Oikawa is all lanky athleticism, a promise of predatory power, his friend is all twinkling eyes and compact grace. There is something more there, too, hidden under the obvious charm. These two are dangerous. They must be friends and not boyfriends right? Oikawa was just complaining about not having a wedding date. Kuroo hadn’t just semi-hit on a guy in a relationship, had he? (well.. not like it would be the worst thing he’s done)  
  
Up until tonight, Kuroo would have put good money down that Akaashi himself was the only man in the world he would describe as ‘beautiful’. And yet, here he is admitting to being proven wrong twice just within the last minutes. Akaashi had said his two best friends from work would be coming but… these guys? Seeing the three of them side by side, it was a little hard to believe they all worked for a manga publisher. Unless ‘publishing’ was slang for ‘high end escorts’ these days? (he’s really reconsidering his teaching career right now, no one else in the chem department is this hot, besides him).   
  
Kuroo turns to his right as a familiar voice enters the conversation.  
  
“Oh, yeah? Is that coming from casual observation or first-hand experience?”  
  
The speaker sits beside him, and Kuroo recognizes the friendly baritone of his fellow gym rat and best friend. They both watch as the silver-haired man’s attention turns to them, grinning archly.  
  
“Oh, observation of course.” His retort is accompanied by an airy wave of his hand. “Tooru couldn’t find someone like me in one of his dive bars. He had to beg for like half a year before I finally blew him.”  
  
Kuroo’s golden eyes snap to Oikawa, who is gaping as his friend (or maybe boyfriend?) continues in that same blithe tone.  
  
“He actually had the balls to ask, ‘what else does that smart mouth do?’” Rolling his eyes, he huffs out an amused breath, bright hair shining metallic under the soft light. “What a terrible line. Shame I was drunk enough that it worked.”  
  
He takes a demure drink from the glass in front of him, which looks disappointingly like water. The entire group is stunned to silence after that declaration until Oikawa’s squawk of horror finally escapes his chest. He nearly falls off his chair as he whips around to face the man next to him, eyes wide in shock.  
  
“Suga-chan!” he gasps. “That blowjob was a gift, it was my _birthday_! Why are you always so determined to shame me?”  
  
Kuroo almost believes Oikawa is mortified, but the cascading laughter bubbling up from his chest gives him away. It’s a nice sound, somehow more genuine than anything else he’d said tonight. And now the silver-haired minx had a name. Suga.  
  
“Yeah, well it was a one-time thing. Besides you're absolutely shameless,” Suga’s eyes twinkle as he looks around the circle playfully “and _no_ , boys, I don’t do all special occasions.”  
  
A beat in the conversation allows Kuroo to voice the question on his mind earlier. He shifts his gaze from the little table of the two strangers to his friends. “Akaashi, where do you find these guys?” He regrets pulling away from what the two beautiful men may or may not do on birthdays and some special events, but he has to know if these men are really somehow just mundane coworkers.  
  
Akaashi releases a pained sigh, looking at his troublesome friends, exuding the patience of a saint contemplating how eternal hell really was.  
“I suppose introductions could be made,” he says steadily, ever pragmatic even in the face of the racket of Oikawa’s laughter. He gestures with one graceful hand towards the table where the two sit.  
  
“Oikawa Tooru and Sugawara Koushi are my closest friends from the office. Oikawa-san leads our Global Marketing Strategy Team and Sugawara-san is our Human Resources Compliance Director.” He smiles at each of them in turn and they beam back, an intimate look passing between them before Akaashi turns to his fiancé expectantly, nudging him a little.  
  
Bokuto jumps in without hesitation, speaking quickly— clearly thrilled at being able to introduce his own friends.  
  
As he was with most things, he’s loud, and Kuroo notices the tiniest hint of a flinch across Suga’s carefully polite features. He trains his eyes back on Bokuto, a half formed question in his mind that he holds for another time.  
  
“That tall mess of bad hair is Kuroo Tetsurou, he’s known both Keiji and me since college! Even before I realized I couldn’t live without Keji, Kuroo knew.” Bokuto smiles fondly up at Akaashi, pulling his fiancé off the arm of the couch and into his lap.  
  
They always look so damn happy Kuroo could puke. (also his hair was not that messy?) Before Kuroo can protest, Bokuto continues introducing the rest of their circle.  
  
“Next to him, the sturdy-looking beefcake is one Sawamura Daichi,” the broad shouldered brunette ducks his head a little at his description but lifts a hand warmly, “and this ray of sunshine next to me is Iwaizumi Hajime”.  
  
The spiky haired man deepens his usual scowl as he nods in acknowledgement, elbowing Bokuto in the ribs as the co-host looks to Oikawa and Suga. “Iwaizumi started out as Akaashi’s personal trainer,” he explains, “but I had to check him out to be sure he wasn’t trying to steal my man.”  
Kuroo snickers at the memory as Bokuto fake-glares at Iwaizumi. Their friend’s green eyed scowl lightens as he lifts his hands in mock-surrender.  
  
“Oi! I do like ‘em pretty, but it was clear not even seductively helping with Akaashi’s shoulder presses was going to release him from whatever spell you’ve got him under.”  
  
Iwaizumi’s voice is raspy on the best days, but now it’s a little grittier than normal with all the alcohol consumption. Out of the corner of Kuroo’s eye he sees Oikawa sit up taller, running his gaze appreciatively over Iwaizumi’s muscled arms. Leaning back on the couch, Kuroo turns that information over in his head a few times like a particularly interesting test tube in the lab.  
  
Bokuto nuzzles briefly into Akaashi’s neck, everyone waiting patiently through the now-normal display of PDA, before he finishes his introductions.  
“Sawamura here ended up stuck with us when we realized we all went to the same gym on weekdays and then haunted the same bar every Thursday and after Kuroo-.”  
  
Daichi shakes his head as he interrupts, “Bo, c’mon, I’m not stuck with you guys. Well, maybe Kuroo,” he amends, shoving the taller man jokingly, “but the rest of you I choose to be friends with. Even if you’re all horribly gay.”  
  
Cries of indignance nearly drown out Daichi’s remark as Kuroo and Bokuto both immediately protest that they’re bi and Iwaizumi argues hes not “horribly” gay. Taking the opportunity to share the moment with Akaashi’s enticing friends, Kuroo catches their gazes with a crooked grin and a wink.  
  
“I’m assuming you both have traveled down less straight roads?” he asks, unambiguously. “Sawamura here is used to being the only one of that pretends like he’s still straight.”  
  
“Ooooh,” Oikawa’s voice is a purr again, but this time without the venom as his gaze zeroes in on the solid body next to Kuroo, “are you still stuck in a closet? I happen to know someone very good at helping handsome men out of them.”  
  
Suga reaches over the table to flick Oikawa on the forehead with the ease of long-practice. “Tooru! Be nice to the poor thing. He looks strong, but what if he has a heart condition?”  
  
Kuroo can’t fail to notice that while Sawamura’s original full-body flush from the blowjob revelation had finally faded, this gentle teasing is proving to be too much as it comes back in full force. (since when did dependable, stoic Sawamura ever get this flustered? this was an excellent development for the night.)  
  
Quietly listening, Kuroo refuses to step in as his best friend stumbles through a response. Daichi stutters out something about how “he’s not really in the dating scene right now-”, “it’s not that there’s anything wrong with dating men-”, “just never met a man he’s wanted to be with in that way-”,  
Biting his lip, he holds in a laugh, tuning out Daichi’s floundering, it’s good for the guy to be flustered like this sometimes. It’s been way too long since Kuroo has seen him rattled by another human being at all, and he hadn’t missed Daichi’s attention at Suga’s entrance earlier in the night, either. The man was incurably straightforward and easy to read. (though possibly cureably straight)  
  
Kuroo instead turns his attention to Oikawa who, even as he pretends to nurse his abused forehead, flicks his gaze once or twice to Iwaizumi. Remembering Oikawa’s earlier reaction to his friend’s gritty voice and the decided interest in Iwaizumi’s arms, Kuroo allows the liquid brilliance flowing through his veins to guide him.  
  
“Oi, boys, leave poor Daichi alone.” Kuroo brings the focus back to him, his voice carefully playful. Daichi leans back with an obvious sigh of relief as Kuroo continues, “Oikawa-san, weren’t you just complaining there weren’t any good men left in the city to be your date to the wedding? Don’t embarrass one of the last good ones to an early grave.”  
  
Oikawa’s eyes flash at that, becoming a molten chocolate as they run up and down Kuroo’s frame with obvious intent. “Are you offering yourself up as my date, Kuroo-san? Or are you not one of the last good ones?”  
  
Oikawa’s eyes hold Kuroo’s own stare, but something in the smug pull at the corner of Oikawa’s mouth tells him that the man is still attuned to exactly what is happening on the couch across from Kuroo. It’s a little bit of a pity, he could have happily tangled himself up with the tall mess of pretty tonight. Ungrateful, scowly Iwaizumi won’t even notice the attention without Kuroo’s help. (the moron, he sighed internally. Kuroo has to do everything around here)  
  
Leaning back to match Daichi, his eyes close as he tilted his head up towards the soft overhead lighting. Kuroo crosses one ankle over his knee and casually laces his fingers behind his head. His voice drawls out slowly, clearly, “Naw, I’ll be officiating the wedding of the century, thanks. But Iwaizumi sucks at picking up dates for events. He’ll go with you.”  
  
\---  
  
At his name, Iwaizumi’s eyes pop wide open, his brain alerting him too late to the danger of the current conversation. He’s been sizing up Akaashi’s coworkers, losing focus on what’s being said as he takes in the soft, graceful throat of the obnoxious one (‘Oikawa’s’, his brain prompts unhelpfully). But with the sudden laughter he tears his eyes away to stare down the dead man who had been his friend until about five seconds ago.  
  
“Kuroo, what the hell?!” he barks in alarm, but it isn’t Kuroo who responds.  
  
“Hmmmm.”  
  
Iwaizumi turns slowly towards the contemplative hum, meeting the gaze of his proffered wedding date (which he will not say yes to, fucking Kuroo). Oikawa looks somewhere between thoughtful and triumphant. Iwaizumi pretends he doesn’t notice the heat there, too.  
  
“Hmmm, what?” He half growls, “if you’re going to annoy everyone by not shutting up all night long at least actually say words.”  
  
Oikawa blinks and Iwaizumi feels a curl of smug satisfaction in his gut. He’s not going to indulge this bratty excuse of a man by playing along with his games. He’s been friends with Kuroo way too long for this bullshit— he knows when you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.  
  
Admittedly, Iwaizumi _had_ been watching Oikawa all night (okay not _watching_ him, but when someone is _that_ tall and annoying it’s hard not to notice them). He’d quickly determined this was the kind of guy he would put up with only at events and only for the sake of his friends. No one would actually volunteer to spend time with someone this purposefully aggravating, though somehow Akaashi and Suga seemed to actually like him.  
  
“Iwa-chan~,” Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow. If he hadn’t been determined to squash this already, that seals the deal. “Do you need a wedding date?” Oikawa’s sing-song voice is velvet, if a little breathy and Iwaizumi’s blood suddenly warms at the potential of that voice.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
(wait what? no. the answer is no.)  
  
“Would you be mine?” Oikawa manages to look up at him from underneath long dark lashes  
  
(does he wear mascara or are those really his lashes? why is Iwaizumi even thinking about that?)  
  
“My wedding date, I mean,” he clarifies with a small knowing smile.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
(that cannot possibly be his voice agreeing to go, can it?)  
  
Oikawa’s lips curve into a smile that can only be described as predatory and something tightens below Iwaizumi’s belly button.  
  
“Perfect!” Oikawa chirps, his sugared voice completely at odds with his expression from just a second ago. “We’ll swap numbers before we all leave tonight. You’ll look very handsome in photos with me, Iwa-chan.”  
  
Iwaizumi blinks and turns to look across the low coffee table. What the actual fuck just happened? He can feel the stunned expression on his face as he meets Kuroo’s cat-that-caught-the-canary gaze. The short table is the only thing separating him from strangling his absolute moron of a friend, and Iwaizumi dazedly wonders if he could wrap his hands around Kuroo’s neck before Daichi stops him.  
  
As if he could hear Iwaizumi’s thoughts, Daichi locks eyes with a small amused smirk, as if the asshole saw the web Kuroo was building and let Iwaizumi stumble right on in. Iwaizumi’s brain clicks back into place again with that and he retaliates in the only way he can think of.  
  
“Sugawara-san, do you have a date to the wedding?”  
  
\---  
  
Suga turns distractedly to Iwaizumi, trying to erase the slight frown he’d shot in Oikawa’s direction. Hadn’t they already agreed to go together as friends?  
  
(Tooru is kind of a cow when he wants to be the pretty one in pictures.)  
  
“What’s that?” He asks, only half listening. Coming back to the moment, he offers an apologetic smile to Iwaizumi as his words register. “Oh, I don’t think Prettykawa is very good at sharing, Iwaizumi-san.”  
  
The last thing Suga wants is to third-wheel as a pity-date. Not only for the sake of his pride, but also because Tooru is clearly pleased with the arrangement as it is (and god help anyone that came between Oikawa Tooru getting what he wanted).  
  
“There’s no world where Sugawara-san and Oikawa-san are both single,” Kuroo interrupts, eyebrows drawing down a little. “Iwa, go achieve your throuple dreams somewhere else.”  
  
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes while carefully ignoring Oikawa’s own narrowed expression.  
  
“Not for me, Kuroo, you’re such a perv.” Iwaizumi stares directly across the low table that had saved Kuroo’s life (and may yet save his).  
  
“Dearest Daichi-san never brings girls to events, but he should still get to enjoy pretty eyes and nice company.”  
  
Kuroo’s eyes light up, and to Suga’s chagrin, he joins in with enthusiasm. “Great idea! Then we can all hang out together again,” his grin turns feral, “and Sugawara-san looks like he could even get Sawamura’s two left feet out on the dance floor with that hot little body.”  
  
Suga’s face flushes a flattering pink at this as he looks over to where the engaged couple has been noticeably absent from the conversation.  
“Akaashi, you never told me your other friends were so... complimentary,” his voice sounds sweet but there’s iron under it.  
  
He’s not exactly thrilled at being offered up on a silver platter, even if it is to a man who looks like he might be able to single handedly break Suga in half (in a way he’d actually enjoy). Suga represses the thought quickly. It’s already established that Sawamura is straight. (and what kind of sick sense of humor does Suga have to even think this way?)  
  
The two people responsible for this unholy grouping of men have apparently seen and heard none of this exchange. Akaashi is too busy whispering sweet nothings as Bokuto’s hands grow bolder with the late night and heavy supply of alcohol. Suga is on his own here.  
  
His gaze turns to Sawamura with a more genuine kindness now, noticing the man’s deep red flush just starting to disappear beneath the v neck of the nicely fitted T-shirt he wore. He’s endearing, and okay yes, maybe a little handsome. (not that it mattered)  
  
“Why is it I feel the need to apologize for your friends, Sawamura-san?” He says softly, almost conspiratorially.  
  
One of Sawamura’s broad hands finds the back of his neck as it begins to redden again. “No no, it’s my apology, Sugawara-san. I regret claiming Iwaizumi as one of my own and I now lump him into the same category as Kuroo- where I am stuck with him, not friends with him.”  
  
His voice is pleasant, more than pleasant, really. Deep and warm, it feels like one of the weighted blankets his therapist is always recommending. Safe. It’s like he’s only talking to Suga, despite the attention in the room being solely focused on them. Suga smiles, a real one this time.  
  
“Suga,” he says.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Sugawara-san is a mouthful. It’s just Suga.”  
  
“Oh... call me Daichi.”  
  
Suga smiles again. He supposes it could be nice to see Daichi at the wedding, and if they both show up dateless (which is a guarantee for Suga), he might enjoy sitting together and hearing Daichi’s voice more.  
  
The conversation shifts to other things, as Kuroo and Iwaizumi have been protesting loudly (again) that they were _excellent_ friends and Daichi is _lucky_ to have them looking out for his best interests. Daichi turns back to them with an exaggerated eye roll and the spell is broken.  
  
Suga shakes his head a little, hair that had escaped his ponytail falling across his face, hiding the fading pink on his cheeks. The moment passed, but it was a nice moment. A nicer moment than he thought he’d have at someone else’s engagement party with a straight man. He notices the red hasn’t quite faded from Daichi’s neck, and hopes the other man is maybe thinking the same thing.  
  
\---

**INCOMING MESSAGES - KUROO’S PHONE**

**Iwa-do-me:** Kuroo, wtf man. We’re cutting you off after 4 drinks from now on  
**Kuroo:** I am just- I am just sitting here??  
**Iwa-do-me:** At 4 you’re fine  
**Iwa-do-me:** At 5 you get IDEAS  
**Iwa-do-me:** And at 6 you start thinking those ideas are GROD  
**Iwa-do-me:** *GOOD  
**Kuroo:** My ideas ARE GROD and GOOD, you just suck at having fun  
**Iwa-do-me:** And apparently at ‘picking up a date for a wedding’? Seriously?  
**Kuroo:** 1\. You do 2. You’re welcome, that guy is gorgeous and you’d never have given him the time of day otherwise  
**Iwa-do-me:** Yeah because he’s DEFINITELY an asshole  
**Kuroo:** And so are you, sooooooooooooo?  
**Iwa-do-me:** Jesus Christ. @Daichi where are you? Back me up here  
**Thighchi:** Oh I’m sorry, are you looking for me? The guy who YOU OFFERED UP AS A DATE TO ANOTHER MAN?  
**Thighchi:** You’re all getting cut off at 1 drink. I can barely trust you guys at that level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this journey! It’s ... uh. Well it’s been a long work in progress and truth be told I’m a little terrified of putting this out into the world. Thanks for joining me on this journey. Pls pray for Daichi and Iwaizumi they are just [ _clenches fist_ ] so dense. 
> 
> ——  
> I will forever owe my soul (what’s left of it) to [ Andie ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireHeartAW/pseuds/FireHeartAW) and [ Deen ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormydeen/pseuds/wormydeen) for beta reading this monster and my thousands of errors. You two are the backbone of my society and I don’t have enough words to tell you what your help means to me.


	2. A Reluctant Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa has a crush. ( _just_ a crush)  
> Suga has a birthday.  
> Akaashi has a bet.  
> Iwaizumi tries (and fails) to hide.  
> Daichi is maybe struggling a little. But it’s fine. He’s fine.  
> Kuroo is incorrigible.

**OUTGOING MESSAGE: OIKAWA’S PHONE**

**Tooru** : Koushiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, how soon is 2 soon to text Iwa-chan? 

**Koushi-kun** : I … feel like that doesn’t matter and you’ve already texted him? 

**Tooru** : Maaaaaaaaaaybe ❣◕ ‿ ◕❣ is that bad? 

**Koushi-kun** : Tooruuu… how many times have you texted him?

 **Tooru** : Not *that* many! 

**Koushi-kun** : Has it even been a week since you met? You’re gonna scare him! 

**Tooru** : Not as badly as we scared his studly friend. Did you see that blush? Ooh I wonder if that red goes all the way downく(^ｰﾟ)ﾉ

 **Koushi-kun** : I thought you were interested in Iwaizumi..? 

**Tooru** : I am, I am! But aren’t you just a littttttle bit curious about Closet-kun? 

**Koushi-kun** : I literally cannot admit to that because you cannot be trusted 

**Tooru** : But The Straights LOVE you!

 **Koushi-kun** : Yes, and as I am currently the MOST single, we see how that’s worked out

 **Tooru** : Oh you, so dramatic! Still coming tonight?

 **Koushi-kun** : I forgot! Sorry, I am a mess this week- I left my running shoes at home. Rain check?

 **Tooru** : Seems fake… but you get one free pass. No ditching me next week!

 **Koushi-kun** : Thank you, o benevolent great king!

 **Tooru** : Finally, the respect I deserve   
  


———

“The light in me recognizes the honor and light in you.” 

“Namaste, Sugawara-senpai.” 

Oikawa chants obediently along with the rest of the class, feeling relieved to see the end of the 90 minutes. He’s a loyal attendee of Koushi’s 10am Saturday session, but this week’s class had been significantly more difficult than usual, and the last few weeks hadn’t exactly been a breeze, either. They had been challenged to hold their poses longer, and Koushi had been relentless in ensuring everyone’s breathing was in sync with their movements. 

Koushi may not be a large man, but he has this presence during a class, like he is some omnipotent being made of light that can see every time someone dropped their back leg in Dancer. Oikawa apparently dropped his back leg a lot in Dancer.

His body does feel lighter, though, as it does after every yoga class, but his muscles are going to be _sore_ tomorrow. He’ll definitely be guilting Koushi into bringing breakfast over tomorrow to make up for it (which he does every Sunday, but that’s not the point). 

After lying contentedly in corpse pose ( _“it’s Savasana, Tooru!”_ the Koushi-like voice in his head admonishes) for a few minutes he feels a nudge. Shielding his eyes against the midday brightness he meets familiar hazel eyes, blue in the light, framed by soft silver hair pulled back under a soaked sweatband. Yoga is always held at a nearby park in the summers, and the summer classes are timed perfectly to wrap up just as the day starts to get uncomfortably warm out. Koushi smiles and offers him a hand up.

“Really making everyone work out some stuff today, hmm?” Oikawa tries to adopt a casual tone as they head to their usual lunch spot, yoga mats and towels slung across their shoulders. 

Koushi winces a little, glancing up at Oikawa with an apologetic grimace. “Shit, was that too hard? I know the Lotus isn’t everyone’s favorite-” 

Oikawa stops, cutting Koushi off with a wave of his hand. “It was a great class, Koushi-kun, if it’s too hard I’ll tell you. I’m just making sure you’re okay.” He pauses as they walk, turning a hard eye on his friend. “You don’t normally do _that_ many inversions unless you’re trying to get out of your own head, and frankly we’ve been doing a lot of inversions for the last three weeks. That’s a _lot_ of inversions, doll.” 

Koushi shakes his head, motioning for them to keep walking. “I’m always in my head, but no more than usual.” He offers a small upturn of his soft mouth. “Thank you for checking, Tooru.” 

His eyes narrow, but Oikawa lets this go until they’ve settled and ordered lunch. While waiting for their mapo tofu— Koushi’s painfully spicy, his a normal human level of heat— he rounds back on their earlier conversation, his voice uncompromising as he asks again. “Okay, let’s try it once more since you lied to me earlier. What’s on your mind, Kou? Are you actually fussed about your birthday tomorrow?”

His friend flinches, knowing he’s not brushing off the question a second time this time. To square off against a single-minded Oikawa is about as useful and efficient as trying to nail jello to a wall. A soft sigh gusts across the little cafe table as Koushi wraps his hands around the glass of water in front of him. His voice comes out low but true. 

“It would have been ou- my anniversary on Monday. I.. I think I’ve just been on edge.” 

Oikawa’s eyes close. (shit. he was normally so good with this, how did he miss the year mark coming up so soon?) He opens again, meeting Koushi’s gaze levelly. 

He hesitates, but is unable to stop himself from asking, “Have you.. have you heard from him at all?”

Koushi shakes his head. “No, you’d know if I did,” he promises. “I’m sure it’s coming, though. I think the anxiety of waiting for him to reach out is worse than if he had already done it.” 

Oikawa reaches across the table, pausing as he asks, “Can I?”

Wordlessly, Koushi slides his hand the rest of the way across the table, placing it in Oikawa’s. They sit quietly until their meal comes, the silence stretching the moment taut. Oikawa knows they both need to move past the decay of unwelcome memories crowding the space between them before it rots their appetites entirely. 

He clears his throat with only a little awkwardness as he plays with the plate in front of him. “You’re still coming to the gym with me this Thursday, right? No bailing on me again?” Oikawa knows the answer, but he asks anyways, just to hear Koushi’s voice and gauge where they’re at. 

His friend chuckles fondly. “I never really have a choice, do I?”

Without thinking, Oikawa reaches back across the table to squeeze Koushi’s hand, slightly cool even in the summer heat, just once. His eyes are serious. “You always have a choice, Kou.” 

Smile faltering for the briefest of seconds, Koushi nods before clearing his throat. “I promise not to purposefully forget my running shoes this time.” He sounds.. maybe not quite okay, but definitely better. Oikawa will take better. 

Oikawa leans back, grinning happily. They’d be okay. They were always okay.

He enjoys the routine and the life they’d created, where they do Saturday yoga before lunch at Suga’s favorite mapo tofu place and Thursday runs before dinner at Oikawa’s favorite sushi spot. And maybe he’s been looking forward to their Thursday runs a little more the last two weeks since putting a certain name to a certain face. 

It’s not like there’s nothing wrong with that. Oikawa thinks he probably doesn’t even really likes the guy, it’s just a crush. But the name Iwaizumi Hajime has a nice sound to it (and Oikawa doesn’t see anything wrong with calling it out when he touches himself sometimes, it’s not like anyone would know how often he pictures those thick arms pinning him against a wall). But he has nearly a week of waiting until the next time he can ‘casually’ bump into the man of his fantasies. He hopes it goes by quickly. 

\---

**INCOMING MESSAGE - SUGAWARA’S PHONE**

**Blocked Number** : happy birthday, baby <3 

**Blocked Number:** tomorrow would be our anniversary, i hope u didn’t forget

 **Blocked Number:** i miss u. text me.

  
  


He’s never been a big birthday celebrator, not even as a kid. Not much has changed since then, at least not in that way. Turning 28 doesn’t seem like anything big to celebrate anyways and Suga wouldn’t exactly welcome being the center of attention— not that he has the option when he has but two friends left to his name.

Sure, Tooru would love to take him out on the town for a night of birthday shots, but they both know that’s the least likely thing Suga would handle well, and Akaashi has been stuck at the office for the weekend anyways. Staying in and spending the day bingeing takeout and rom-coms (while viciously rating every hot guy on screen) had been about the best he could ask for. 

Well, it would have been had he not gotten the exact texts he had been dreading just after stepping back inside his own apartment that evening. Even after months, even after all physical signs of his past have healed, seeing the messages on his phone makes him feel like he can’t get a full breath in. Like a vice with a glacial grip holds him fast, his chest restricts, his throat tightens, and he feels helpless. Fragile and broken. 

He knows, he _knows_ he should tell Tooru, but his friend is already worried enough about him. Suga will bring it up later. Maybe once he’s able to stand up from the corner of the hall closet he’s tucked himself into, or after he’s locked all of his doors and double checked his windows are latched. He’ll get around to telling Tooru. 

Probably.

In his little apartment Suga logically knows he’s safe, but illogically he can’t stop pacing the tiny hallway. Stopping in his bathroom, he looks at the medication on the counter. The label reads “take one as needed for anxiety”. Suga swallows hard and puts the bottle away, with only the slightest shake of his hand. He hasn’t needed those in a while, but sometimes just looking at them, knowing he has the option helps settle his racing heart. 

Finally curling up on his bed, full of fluffy, comfortable blankets and too many pillows, he sighs. It’s going to be a long night, and he might be alone, but at least with Tooru just down the hall he’s not lonely. Not in the way he used to be. 

\---

After weeks of insane pressure on the accounting department, Akaashi is quietly thrilled to finally join Oikawa-san and Suga-san for lunch again- he owes Suga at least a lunch after being in the office all weekend and missing his birthday. Work had been so crazy lately that even stepping outside of the office for a breather had seemed like a dream. Thankfully, today they had pushed through some of the trickier books and made some promising progress, so Akaashi’s boss was kind enough to grant them a real lunch break. 

Normally he’s happy to sit and bask in the familiar (and sometimes sordid) banter of his two friends, but today Akaashi has a mission of his own. He’s barely seen Suga or Oikawa since his engagement party and he has questions that require answers. Biding his time – he’s nothing if not patient (one has to be with Koutarou-san for a partner) – he finds his opportunity when their meals arrive and the other two are occupied with taking first bites. 

“So,” he starts, his most unassuming tone wafting over the table with the smell of the food, “I haven’t had a chance to ask yet- what did you think of Kou-chan’s gym friends? He was so worried about everyone hitting it off.” 

Oikawa and Suga both freeze, making quick eye contact. Akaashi waits, his personal superpower coming in handy as he gazes mildly across the table, trying to decipher what their sudden silence could portend. 

It’s Oikawa who clears his throat and answers sweetly with a disarming smile. “They seemed very nice, Keiji-kun. You and Owl-kun have excellent taste in friends.” 

Smiling down at his plate, Akaashi grabs a bite for himself, chewing thoughtfully. He leans his chin on one hand, bringing his eyes up to gaze expectantly at their other friend. If he waits long enough Suga-san will crack. There had always been an understanding between them. A good solid look was all it took. 

Like clockwork, barely a full minute later Suga crumbles with a devious grin Akaashi knows well. “He means he wants to climb Iwaizumi-san like a tree and you guys have really hot friends.” 

Oikawa shoots daggers at Suga across the table. 

Akaashi reprimands Oikawa lightly. “Oh don’t make such a face, Tooru-san. Anyone could have seen how you were eyeing Iwaizumi-san.” 

His blue-green eyes hold a gleam as he glances at Suga, the smaller man confirming what Akaashi already knows- Oikawa had set his sights on Iwaizumi with or without the other man’s knowledge (or approval). 

Sniffing primly, Oikawa sips his drink, not making eye contact with either of them as he asks, “And how exactly was I allegedly eyeing him, you judgy beasts?” 

Akaashi and Suga let out small chuckles. Suga meets Akaashi’s gaze again, nodding in indication that he should go on. He willingly complies with Suga’s silent encouragement, realizing how much he’s missed these teasing lunch dates.

Setting his utensils down, looking straight at Oikawa, he replies demurely, “Like Iwaizumi-san was the sushi boat you ordered to celebrate landing our next biggest client.” 

Suga’s laugh chimes out louder this time as Oikawa turns a petulant scowl on them both, lower lip poking out. Akaashi knows his tactics all too well, though. “Don’t you glare at me like that, you know you’re too pretty for it to work on me.” 

Seeing that his was a losing battle, Oikawa flips a switch, grinning a little savagely. He looks over to Suga as he muses aloud, “Oh yes, I forget, Keiji-kun you’re more of an ass-man like our dear Suga-chan here. Speaking of, what was your other friend’s name again? Daichi, I think?”

That shuts Suga’s giggle off effectively and Akaashi finds himself blinking in real surprise. Oikawa is asking about Daichi? Well…. Truth be told, Akaashi and Kuroo had placed bets on Daichi’s “straightness” years ago, so this was an unforeseen, but not unwelcome, new level of intrigue.

However, Akaashi merely looks down at his plate, pushing the remaining rice around a little as he replies with a laughing shrug. “Suga-san and I have good taste. Besides, I picked you both to be my friends specifically because you would be able to hold up the pretty side of the table – it’s Koutarou-san’s job to find the beefy, buff friends.” 

Suga and Oikawa squawk at this (so predictable, these delightful friends of his. but it does make it easy to keep them off the scent of his information-gathering). 

“ _We_ picked _you_ because _you_ are pretty!” Oikawa insists as Suga jumps in. 

“ _Tooru_ picked you because he didn’t want anyone rivaling his good looks without his approval-” he dodges a playful swat, laughing, “oh, Tooru, don’t make that face— it’s absolutely true! You literally told me that after you hit on me my second day.” 

His friends continue to bicker easily as Akaashi quietly polishes off his remaining food, turning this new knowledge around like a particularly tricky set of numbers. It isn’t the revelation about Oikawa-san’s vain motives that has his wheels spinning. No, he knows and accepts that (and if he tells no one but himself, he’s flattered every time Suga-san and Oikawa-san lump Akaashi in on their level of looks). 

  
However, the part where Oikawa, and possibly even Suga, have clearly discussed Kou-chan’s gym friends on a.. carnal level… Well, that is something to consider. 

Internally grimacing, Akaashi remembers the wedding that is only half planned and the stack of work sitting at his desk. Resigning himself to texting pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo-san, the real schemer, he heaves a mental sigh. While he hates giving Kuroo the satisfaction of being right about anything (Kuroo-san is insufferable when proven right), this seems to be a promising development for his very single (very obnoxious, very lovely) friends. 

Well, it’s either very promising or the very worst idea he’s ever had. But when he’d first met Koutarou-chan, that had seemed like it could go either way. But his muscular, loud, excitable, wonderful, gorgeous, now-fiance had turned out to be just as star struck over Akaashi as Akaashi was over him. Who’s to say that same fifty-fifty shot couldn’t work out for his friends, too? 

**OUTGOING MESSAGE - AKAASHI’S PHONE  
  
  
** ******Akaashi** : Kuroo-san, how much did those clever gold eyes observe at the engagement party? 

**PITAKS** : Keiji, are you… flirting with me? You know I see all. 

**Akaashi** : (◔_◔)

 **Akaashi** : Did you happen to notice if my friends took any particular interest in anyone there? 

**PITAKS** : Ahhhh so you saw Iwaizumi getting eye-fucked by the tall friend, too? 

**Akaashi** : So crass. That’s the low-hanging fruit, Kuroo-san. Did you notice anything else?  
 **PITAKS** : Well I didn’t know it was a challenge! But your little silver fox seemed to have a nice moment with The Local “Straight” (¬‿¬)

 **Akaashi** : There it is. 

**Akaashi** : Yes, I think one of us might actually have to pay out on our little bet soon.

 **PITAKS** : It’s been a while since we placed those wagers. Should we update the parameters? 

**Akaashi** : What are you thinking? 

**PITAKS** : Over/under on your wedding date. 

**Akaashi** : Oh, no doubt it will be after the wedding. Daichi-san moves even slower than Iwaizumi-san in the best of romantic situations.

 **PITAKS** : Then I say before the wedding it is. Same terms apply? 

**Akaashi** : Same terms apply. 

**PITAKS** : Game on, Agaaaashi. 

**Akaashi** : A pleasure, ‘Rooster-kun’

\---

It isn’t that Daichi means to be ungrateful, really. He has an apartment and friends and a job and he even likes all those things. But what he doesn’t have is any sense of permanence, of safety. The last time he had really felt settled had been, what… highschool? Yeah, probably highschool. The mornings spent at practice with his volleyball team, days in classes, and evenings making dinner with his dad was definitely the last time he’d really felt secure. 

He isn’t one to wallow at least, and even if he wants to dwell on it, when would he find the time? He has a business to run, employees to oversee, and books to add up, (though not in his favor recently). 

“Sawamura-san, where did you want the extras?” a steady voice calls out from outside his office, interrupting his train of thought. 

“Ah, just, wherever you can find space in the supply closet. Preferably a higher shelf so the kids can’t knock into it and break anything.” Daichi rubs a hand through his short cropped hair, trying to remember when the last time he stood up to take a break was. Checking his watch he swears softly under his breath. How is it 5pm? He had meant to take the day off.

Allowing himself a brief moment, Daichi leans back in his chair, rolling his shoulders to try and loosen up the stiffness there while ticking off his mental checklist. Interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, he looks down and- what the hell? Twelve missed texts?

**INCOMING MESSAGES - DAICHI’S PHONE  
  
  
** **JFC Iwaizumi** : He won’t stop texting me

 **WTF Kuroo** : Who? 

**JFC Iwaizumi** : That Oikawa guy! From the engagement party

 **WTF Kuroo** : Oh poooooooor Iwaizumi. Some super hot dude is super into you

 **JFC Iwaizumi** : It’s definitely not as cool as you’re making it sound, this guy is… very persistent 

**WTF Kuroo** : Look, we can’t all effortlessly pick up the hottest guy at the gym so I’m refusing to feel bad for you 

**JFC Iwaizumi** : I mean you tried that one time, right? How’d that turn out again? Daichi? 

**WTF Kuroo** : You dick. You do not deserve Oikawa’s attentions, I’ll take him instead

 **JFC Iwaizumi** : He’s texted me 8 times in the last 3 minutes

 **WTF Kuroo** : Nvm. I mean this from the bottom of my heart when I say: you absolutely deserve all Oikawa’s attentions 

**JFC Iwaizumi** : Fuck you, you pile of cat dirt

 **Daichi** : Guys. Really? In the group chat? 

Shaking his head, Daichi smiles to himself. Iwaizumi is a good guy. Totally clueless, but a good guy. Daichi and Kuroo are very aware that Iwaizumi has a hard time differentiating when he’s irritated versus when he’s attracted to someone. The guy is wired a little strangely, but when he feels things he feels them _hard_. 

Not that Daichi really has room to talk about the dating scene. Kuroo is the only one of them consistently getting action, and that’s because he isn’t ever looking for anything specific other than a good time. Daichi couldn’t fault Kuroo’s sexual appetite, but that kind of intimacy isn’t his style (and if he really thought about it…. geeze has it actually been four years since he’s had a real relationship?). Dating just hasn’t been the priority lately. Or maybe there just hasn’t been anyone to catch his attention? The last time he’d noticed anyone was the guy from- (not like that counts though because it’s a guy). He groans, a hand coming up to rub a thumb and forefinger over his eyes. (this is not what he needs to be thinking about right now)

“Hey, Boss!” A different voice than the last one greets him as his office door creaks open, revealing a shocking head of fluffy orange hair. 

Daichi smiles, a little tiredly. “Hey kid, what’s up?” 

“Aren’t you… not supposed to be here?” The young man’s eyes widen, “N-not that you can’t be here! I mean of course you can be here, it’s just-” 

“Hinata, it’s okay.” Daichi scrubs his hand over his face, feeling the stubble he swore he was going to shave yesterday. The boy— young man, he has to remind himself— is right. He’s already spent most of his day off here, and he really needs to leave before he has to come back later tonight anyways. “I’m heading out shortly, okay? I know you, Kageyama, and Ennoshita can hold down the fort, I’m not trying to cramp your style.” 

Hinata snaps a salute with a sunny grin and backs out of the small office. Daichi looks at his phone again, feeling the increasingly insistent vibrations. 

**INCOMING MESSAGES - DAICHI’S PHONE  
  
  
** **JFC Iwaizumi** : Sorry, Dai

 **WTF Kuroo** : Sorry, Dadchi

 **WTF Kuroo** : I’m on my way to the gym, want me to swing by your place and grab you?

 **Daichi** : Nah, I’m at work I’ll meet you there. What’s the plan? 

**JFC Iwaizumi** : I thought you took the day off? Have you been there all day? 

**Daichi** : Yeah well… any chance today can be leg day? 

**WTF Kuroo** : Yikes, you’re asking for Iwaizumi’s leg day? You stressed, man? 

**Daichi** : I spent the day working instead of not working, I just need to blow off some steam. 

**JFC Iwaizumi** : Daichi, what a fuckin gift! Leg day it is. Just remember when you’re walking funny tomorrow that you asked for this. 

**Daichi** : Iwaizumi. Why.

 **Daichi:** KUROO. DON’T. You can be better than this. 

**WTF Kuroo** : Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Daichi rolls his eyes, neatening his desk and taking one last look around his office before leaving. It’s tidy, if maybe a little plain. His favorite photos with his dad hang on the wall by his desk along with his diploma and a few other pictures from his life back in his hometown. His old volleyball team makes almost as many appearances as his dad does. Daichi averts his gaze from one particular image, the one of his dad holding a young Daichi on his shoulders. He feels something a little too close to guilt when faced with that proud smile. 

Making his way down the hall to finally take time off on his day off, his deep voice calls out to the team, “I’ll see you tonight guys, don’t burn it down in the meantime, please!” 

As he closes the door he hears the chorus of “Bye, Boss!” and smiles. Things will be fine. He’s got a good team here and Daichi has never been afraid of hard work or a challenge, even if this dream of his was proving to be both. He just can’t afford to get distracted.

\---

Finishing up with his last client of the day, Iwaizumi Hajime heaves out a breath. Reminding the woman to keep her core tight on deadlifts as she bows her thanks, Iwa looks over to the corner of the gym where he’ll be heading next. There’s a familiar mess of black bedhead where Kuroo (the asshole) is harassing Sawamura (only slightly less of an asshole). The two were supposed to be getting warmed up, and at least Sawamura looks like he actually is. Kuroo is unsubtly checking out Iwaizumi’s client, his perfect crooked grin heating the pale skin of her face. (fucking incorrigible, Kuroo).

The three men work out together a few days a week based on the plan Iwaizumi writes up for them. Sawamura and Kuroo consistently try to remind him that they’re friends, not clients, but Iwaizumi likes this part of his job. He likes analyzing physical weaknesses and fine-tuning strengths. As he isn’t much for verbal or even physical affection in his personal life, this is the best way he knows how to be a friend to the guys he’s become so close to. 

He might roughhouse with Daichi and call Kuroo names, but the two men have always taken Iwa for what he is, and even his most intensely grueling workout days doesn’t keep them from harassing him good-naturedly in return (the amount of times Kuroo asked “do you even lift, bro?” can be nauseating, though). 

After Kuroo makes the obligatory jokes about worshipping at “Thighchi’s Altar” they get down to the real work quickly. It’s ninety minutes of brutal effort, but they keep their focus for the most part, sweating, spotting, and lifting with only a little bit more than their average bantering. Iwaizumi can’t blame them, though. They’re all looking forward to tonight, and it sounds like Sawamura needs it more than any of them. 

Close to the end of their workout Iwaizumi spots Daichi on the squat rack, his eyes wandering around the gym aimlessly. They call their friend Thighchi for a reason; Iwa is pretty much only here to look responsible at this point. It’s a lucky thing Sawamura is self-sufficient, too, as Iwaizumi’s thoughts, his breath, and possibly time stop for a moment when a concerningly familiar mess of perfectly-tousled brown hair catches his eye. (oh no no no no no nono no)

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” Iwaizumi breathes. 

Daichi grunts, racking the weights from his largely unassisted last set and turns to face his suddenly useless semi-personal trainer. “Thanks for nothing, Iwaizu-”

“SHHHHHHHHHHH!” He jolts forward to nearly slap his sweaty palm over Daichi’s mouth, trying to muffle his too-deep voice. Daichi narrows his eyes, looking up at Iwaizumi’s panicked expression. Pulling back, he sucks in air that doesn’t taste like sweat. 

“Alright, what is your damage?” Sawamura sounds annoyed, but to Iwaizumi’s great relief, he speaks quietly. For looking like an absolute lunk a lot of the time, Iwa is grateful that Sawamura _can_ actually read a room when necessary. 

His voice is strained as he carefully keeps his back to the main area of the gym for a tense few moments, “Just don’t. Do. Anything. We’re trying to go unnoticed.” 

Sawamura huffs out a quiet breath. “What, are we in danger? Is there some kind of predator hunting us?”

Meeting the curiously bemused expression on Daichi’s honest face, Iwaizumi lets out a rueful chuckle, trying not to give away how close to the truth Sawamura is with his teasing. “Oh, just,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “thought I saw… someone.”

His panic resumes as Daichi cranes his neck to look around. Iwaizumi grabs his shirt collar, dragging them both down to sit on the nearby weight bench.

“ _Sawamura”_ Iwaizumi whispers sharply, “ _Stop_. It’s that Oikawa guy. He uses the indoor track here and I-“

“You’re avoiding him.” Sawamura finishes with a wry smile. “It’s been what, two weeks since the engagement party? It can’t really be that bad can it?”

Iwaizumi glares, saying nothing, but pulling out his phone to show Daichi the texts from just earlier today. 

**INCOMING MESSAGE - IWAIZUMI’S PHONE  
  
  
** **Unknown Number** : Yoo~hoo~

 **Unknown Number** : Iwa-chaaaan~

 **Unknown Number** : I’m so excited for our wedding date! 

**Unknown Number** : And to think you’ve been working at the same gym I go to this whole time! I run there all the time, how have you not noticed me?

Daichi coughs to cover a laugh. “Dude you are _beyond_ fucked. You don’t have a wedding date. You have a clingy boyfriend.”

Iwaizumi’s glare intensifies. “This is not a joke. I think he’s insane. Or at least unstable.” He groans, dropping his head between his knees and dragging a hand through his thick hair. “The prettiest ones always are.” 

He drops his head further with a muttered curse. (why is he saying shit like this? this sudden lack of filter is really not ideal right now)

It’s at that moment Kuroo joins them again, drifting back over to their bench area from where he’s been chatting up Iwaizumi’s client (who was supposed to have left a long time ago but was “stretching” while Kuroo made his move).

Iwa really should institute some kind of no-cross-contamination policy between his friend and clients. He’s about to berate the taller man, but the words die on his tongue, watching in horror as Kuroo waves a hand and calls, “OYA OYA! Oikawa-san is that you?” 

\---

As luck (luck? Iwaizumi probably wouldn’t call it that) would have it, it isn’t only Oikawa-san that Kuroo spotted, but also his friend from the engagement party, Suga.

Daichi watches Oikawa’s eyes light up as he practically skips over in tiny running shorts and a low cut tanktop. Struggling to maintain a neutral expression for Iwaizumi’s sake, Daichi feels the quirk of a smile at the corners of his mouth. The absolute _joy_ of Oikawa’s long legs actually skipping, artfully messy hair bouncing with every few steps is a sight to behold, the guy is practically levitating. Daichi’s pretty sure he feels Iwaizumi’s blood pressure rise.

Suga glides along behind, a silvery shadow in the wake of Oikawa’s natural sparkle, a fond smile on his face as he watches his friend. He’s clad a bit more modestly, a loose faded long sleeve over form-hugging joggers. (not that Daichi noticed they were form hugging in any particular way. not that he found it distracting at all)

He rubs a hand across his face, closing his eyes and blaming recent long days and late nights at work for the strange wandering thoughts he’s been having about this man— no just in general, strange wandering thoughts in general. 

A breath leaves him quietly as he wonders for the thousandth time today what he thinks he’s doing and how he even got himself here in the first place. Well, he knows how he got _here_ to this city and this gym. But it always takes him by surprise to think about how he got _here_ with these people doing these things. 

Kuroo is the easiest to explain, he supposes. He and the giant had a longtime friendly(ish) gym rivalry that sprung up nearly as soon as Daichi had stepped foot in the gym. After months of challenging glares, heavier weights, and extra reps, Kuroo had taken him by surprise, approaching Daichi and asking him to go for a drink after their respective workouts. Daichi wasn’t one to turn down a friendship opportunity— being new to the area had made him acutely aware of the friends he had left behind and the community he realized he missed more than he thought he would. 

It was that fateful (very drunken) night that Daichi learned Kuroo was bi. Aggressively bi. Aggressive in general, really. Daichi’s memories are still fuzzy from that whole episode, whether from alcohol or repression, but there’s something about the heat of lips in a darkened hallway and embarrassed laughter that sticks with him. They had talked about it, though, and while Kuroo still claims to be offended that he’s not Daichi’s type (“I’m _everyone’s_ type, Sawamura”), a strong and real friendship was somehow born. 

Their eventual absorption of Iwaizumi and then Akaashi and Bokuto into his life came after a very anxious Bokuto showed up at the gym to intimidate his boyfriend’s hot new personal trainer. There _may_ have almost been a fight, but Daichi had always been a good mediator. After his time as volleyball captain in highschool, not much could phase him. (it’s hard to explain but if anyone met his former teammates they’d get it.) He did almost get decked by Bokuto, though, until Kuroo came and successfully, if forcefully, subdued the excitable professional athlete. 

Between Kuroo’s long standing friendship with the couple and Daichi’s soothing promises to Bokuto that they’d keep an eye on Akaashi, the situation was resolved. (he’d made sure to tell them both he was straight, even if Akaashi had looked skeptical) 

Weeks of “keeping an eye on Akaashi” turned into an easy, teasing friendship between the four men, and eventually turned into regular nights going out for drinks after the gym, the three gym-rats often meeting Bokuto after practice or Akaashi after work. Akaashi had become far too busy for his regular gym sessions lately, but he promised once his busy season was over he’d be back. Daichi found he did miss the quiet, thoughtful insights and barbs Akaashi never failed to produce. Seeing them at the engagement party had been nice, but maybe they’d all be able to catch up over drinks again soon.

Tuning back in from those strange wandering thoughts, he hears Kuroo inviting Oikawa and Suga to join them for drinks tonight and has to blink once or twice to separate past and present. 

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude on boys’ night out,” Suga says graciously. His hair is tied back again today, just a tiny ponytail low against his neck with shorter fluffy-looking pieces held back by a few bobby pins. It’s cute. (ask anyone, bobby pins are universally cute, it’s not weird to think that)

Oikawa puts a hand on Suga’s arm, looking down at his friend with no attempt at concealing his eagerness. “Ex _cuse_ him, we would absolutely love to intrude!” He turns to Iwaizumi, “Where are we going?”

Kuroo, the instigator as always, is only too happy to provide the necessary information. 

“Same place as the party. They let us drink for free on special occasions.” He shoots a look at Daichi, a coy grin creeping up his face. 

Rolling his eyes, Daichi contributes, too. “You’re both absolutely welcome to join, even if Iwaizumi tries to come down with some sudden illness he’ll be there. It’s tradition.” He invites both of them, but his eyes are lingering on that silver hair, wondering if it would be down out of its ponytail if they did come by the bar tonight. 

Suga makes a joke about Oikawa having the same tendency for sudden incurable diseases that has Kuroo laughing, but Daichi is suddenly too busy doing his best to focus on _anything_ else to laugh along. Forcing his gaze to Iwaizumi, he can almost feel the knives the man has been glaring into him. 

Daichi isn’t fooled though, Iwaizumi can sputter and growl all he wants, but he never likes anyone outright. It’s part of his charm, really. In his last relationship he’d complained nonstop about the guy for three months before they’d gotten together.

(“he never racks his weights”, “his form is shitty”, “has he ever heard of headphones?”)

It was only because Iwa finally realized that noticing all those things about the guy meant Iwa was noticing _the guy_. That’s not even true, though. Iwaizumi didn’t actually realize it, Kuroo told him he was into the guy and Daichi agreed. (and they were right)

“Ooo, tradition?” Suga asks brightly. “Is there a special occasion?” 

Daichi’s brain hits a hard pause, turning back to Suga as he inexplicably remembers the last time he heard the words “special occasion” from that mouth and what the implication of that had been. He feels a flush threatening to rise to his face and groans internally. 

Wait, why is he flushing? Thinking about a particular set of lips giving head should not get him hot and bothered. (get ahold of yourself, Sawamura, and get more sleep).

“Nothing special, really,” Iwaizumi growls out, flashing another warning look to the group, but before Daichi can try to appeal to Iwa’s better nature, Kuroo butts back in with his shit-eating-grin. Three words that no doubt put him right at the top of Iwa’s shit list. 

“It’s Iwaizumi’s birthday!”

Daichi could swear he _feels_ Oikawa’s gaze sharpen. He could almost pity Iwaizumi. Almost. But instead of offering any input he waits, carefully watching Oikawa for the response he hopes to hear. (no not _hopes_ , just has an interest in. but like a tiny interest – it isn’t a big deal)

“How fun!” Oikawa replies cheerily, the intensity of his eyes at odds with the forced casual tone. The juxtaposition is something Daichi had noticed from the last time they’d interacted with him and he personally finds it terrifying, but he can see Kuroo paying particular attention to Iwaizumi leaning in again like he had done a few weekends ago as Oikawa continues. “Well, we will definitely be there. Can’t miss a celebration for my favorite wedding date, can we, Koushi-kun?”

Daichi feels the name Koushi drop onto his chest like a weight and settle there comfortably. Actively choosing to ignore this, he breathes in heavily against the pressure. It’s a nice sounding name, that’s all. 

A cough hiding behind long fingers does little to disguise Suga’s laugh at Iwaizumi’s betrayed and defeated expression. “Well, until two weeks ago I would have said I was your favorite wedding date.” His voice is teasing, eyes sparkling as he watches Oikawa back Iwaizumi into a corner. “But, unlike you, I can admit defeat gracefully.” 

He bobs a bow in Iwaizumi’s direction at that, a smoothly practiced movement. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says warmly. “However, if Tooru and I don’t start our run now we’ll never be ready in time.” 

Suga’s gaze find Daichi’s again, and it’s another moment like they’d had at the engagement party. The focus suddenly narrows to just the two of them again, and the weight on Daichi’s chest spreads to his body, rooting him to where he sits, unable to move or look anywhere besides the conspiratorial look dancing in those hazel eyes. “You don't think Oikawa’s perfectly bouncy hair happens naturally do you?”

Oikawa makes an offended noise at this, intending to drag Suga away, but the sound of Daichi’s voice surprises himself as he hears it ask, “Are you both runners, then?” 

Ever quick to follow Daichi’s lead, Suga snorts at the change in subject and shakes his head. “Daichi, I hate running. I’m forced here against my will once a week so Oikawa can talk my ear off while he does laps around me.” 

Daichi grins. Oikawa is nearly vibrating and he doesn’t doubt the lanky man will burn through half of that energy just talking. For some reason, (this is absolutely due to stress and lack of sleep, and nothing to do with how sweet his name sounds in Suga’s voice or how good Suga looks in those joggers) Daichi speaks again without thinking. “You’re obviously fit, though.”

He feels the heat rise back to his face now. His stupid flush reaction is so embarrassing and his internal voice is not helping rectify any of this. Why did he say that? It wasn’t even a question? Was it a compliment? (maybe Iwaizumi is onto something by trying to avoid these guys) 

Suga’s head tilts a little in amusement, an almost bird-like motion, clearly noticing the tinge of red across Daichi’s neck. Oikawa is actually dragging him towards the track now, but Suga manages to reply with a cheeky grin. “I teach yoga. I’m not fast on a track, but I’m flexible where it counts.” 

He bites down against the plush skin of his lower lip, winking, and it’s the brazen flirtatiousness of the move (and definitely nothing to do with what his words implied) that have Daichi’s cheeks fully burning as he notices the mole just underneath Suga’s left eye for the first time. 

With that, the other two men leave and Daichi breathes out a gust of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. Looking up finally, he meets the gaze of an angry Iwaizumi (unsurprising) and a calculating Kuroo (concerning). 

“What’s that face for, loser?” Daichi asks, his voice gruff as he eyes Kuroo’s crossed arms and thoughtful stance with trepidation.

A half shrug is his only reply (also concerning).

It’s Iwaizumi who moves them along, shoving them roughly towards the locker rooms. “Oi, come on, you assholes. Since Kuroo here so kindly invited my stalker along tonight, I’m going to need to start the drinking early.”

\---

“He’s cute, right? Like in a ‘grown man I’d like to see on top of me’ kind of way?” Tooru is barely breathing hard as they complete their first mile around the track. His hair still bounces with every step, and for all intents and purposes he looks like a fitness model. It would be a little bit frustrating if his excitement wasn’t so damn infectious. Suga can barely force them to keep a steady pace when Tooru is all but ready to rocket around the track like a human torpedo.

“Who? You mean Iwaizumi?” Suga asks nonchalantly between measured breaths, and the insulted gasp from next to him has him holding back a grin. 

“Of _course_ I mean Iwa-chan!” There’s a brief pause. “Unless… there’s someone else _you_ were looking at?” 

The mental images in Suga’s head flash with pictures of broad hands and red flushed cheekbones. He has to take another breath before he feels confident that he can look at Tooru without any abnormal pinkness to his own face. 

It’s no use though as an impish grin flashes across Tooru’s face. He crows loudly, triumphantly, “There is!” And Suga can’t even attempt to get a word in as Tooru plows ahead, his tone deliberately contemplative. 

“Well it’s not Iwa-chan, I think I’d know if you had a death wish.” He continues, pretending not to hear Suga’s derisive snort. “It could be Rooster-kun, but I don’t think you really like them _that_ tall, otherwise you’d be panting after me.” 

Now Suga opens his mouth to respond, but Tooru has already come to his final conclusion. “Which means it would have to be,” he gasps in mock surprise, turning delightedly to Suga, “Closeted-kun?!”

“Don’t call him that, Tooru! But, hardly.” Suga huffs a quick laugh, picking up the pace to encourage his friend to move along and leave this conversation behind. “He seems nice enough, but- contrary to your unpopular belief- not every straight man is a top waiting to find his bottom. And he is _not_ gay, we know this.” 

Tooru hums to himself as Suga pointedly avoids his gaze. He doesn’t need to give his nosy neighbor any further insight into what Daichi’s flushes may or may not do to his insides, or what seeing his legs in workout shorts had done to his verbal filter. (you’re ‘super flexible’, Koushi, really? just throw yourself into the poor straight thing’s lap why don’t you?)

They run on, Tooru determined to get in a quick three miles, chattering away the whole time as Suga focuses on the track beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, savoring every breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, another chapter up? Another chapter up. Do you feel as bad for Iwa-chan as I do? Can Oikawa just... chill? Who the fuck is texting Suga? So many questions and seven more days until (maybe?) answers? Man this weekly thing is rough. 
> 
> ——  
> I will forever owe my soul (what’s left of it) to [ Andie ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireHeartAW/pseuds/FireHeartAW) and [ Deen ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormydeen/pseuds/wormydeen) for beta reading this monster and my thousands of errors. You two are the backbone of my society and I don’t have enough words to tell you what your help means to me.


	3. Unwelcome Texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa attends another damn party  
> Iwaizumi gets a little drunk  
> Daichi gets on the dance floor (not clickbait??)  
> Kuroo is not a damn pack mule  
> Akaashi makes pointed eye contact  
> Suga... well, you’ll see

**INCOMING MESSAGE - SUGAWARA’S PHONE**

**Blocked Number** : baby… I miss u

 **Blocked Number:** didn’t we have good times together? i never loved anyone as much as I loved u

**Blocked Number:** fine, don’t answer. u’ve always been such a fucking tease

 **Blocked Number:** ur a real piece of shit you know that? 

**Blocked Number:** at least have the decency to answer me!! I fucking know ur reading these

**Blocked Number:** babe? I’m sorry about what happened. U know i never meant to hurt u pls text me 

\---

“Hey, Koushi-kun, what do we think about the grey sweater? Is that too formal? The v-neck isn’t very deep..” Oikawa trails off regretfully, looking for input (or flattery, he’s certainly not opposed to flattery either). 

When no reply (or flattery) is forthcoming, he flips a lock of still-damp hair out of his eyes and realizes his bedroom is empty, which is depressing on multiple levels. Koushi must have left somewhere between the discussion about jeans versus slacks and the merits of each for Oikawa’s legs. (rude)

He abandons the questionable sweater on his forever-unmade bed, and saunters out to the main living area. Koushi isn’t in the living room either, but Oikawa hears telltale sounds from the kitchen. There’s either a thirsty intruder, or Koushi is helping himself to Oikawa’s carefully curated stash of teas. 

Pausing at the entrance of his tiny kitchen, a small smile softens Oikawa’s features. Watching Koushi make himself tea is practically a form of self care in and of itself. The shorter man rummages through a large collection of mugs, mouth pressed into a tight line. A gentle clinking comes from within the cabinet until finally there’s a small hum of pleasure indicating the correct mug has been procured. 

They’re all soothing sounds, soft, like the purring of a cat and the buzz of summer air. Oikawa always feels Koushi’s presence radiating that kind of warm calm of a hazy summer day. Even after… everything, it still does. There’s just a certain sense of fragility to it all now. 

Koushi stretches tall, reaching for the highest cabinet to get the good tea that Oikawa keeps hidden from other guests, but never from him. The motion pulls his soft shirt up, exposing a toned stomach as his pajama bottoms slip a little lower on his defined hip bones. Oikawa holds in a tiny regretful sigh. They aren’t at all compatible romantically, but it doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the domestic beauty of his best friend.

“Can I help?” he asks quietly. 

Not actually waiting for an answer, Oikawa reaches over Koushi’s head to grab the basket of teas, picking out one for each of them and grabbing an additional mug for himself. 

Koushi doesn’t answer, but busies himself getting out honey and milk while Oikawa heats water in the kettle, their routine like a practiced dance. With a mug of hot tea in hand, a splash of milk for Koushi, a large dollop of honey for Oikawa, they blow on their mugs gently. Koushi pops up to sit cross-legged on the widely-unused kitchen counter as Oikawa leans back against it. 

“Did the grey sweater offend you that much?” Oikawa keeps his tone light, not looking at his friend as he tests the temperature of the tea and Koushi’s state of mind. It hasn’t escaped him that Koushi has yet to speak— for all that Oikawa is generally considered to be spoiled and self-indulgent, things like this don’t go unnoticed under his watchful eye. 

More soft clinking noises come from his left as Koushi stirs his tea absently. He takes a small sip before answering.

“I um… I got a few texts from that blocked number on Sunday and then more while I was showering earlier.” He continues on, rushing to get the words out. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I told you I knew it was coming, but I guess I was kind of hoping it was just… over.” 

Every nervous muscle in Oikawa freezes at Koushi’s tone. He and his coworker have long since left their strictly-professional relationship behind, and yet, hearing that level of raw vulnerability... It doesn’t happen often, or ever really, other than specific instances like this, when the nightmare he had witnessed earlier this year becomes almost corporeal again. Forcing himself to stay collected, Oikawa allows a pause before responding. 

“I…. see. What do I need to know about those texts?”

That’s always been his way with Koushi, to not pry too deeply at the cracks in the facade, lest either of them crumble completely when faced with what was underneath. He knows his best friend well enough to feel comfortable that Koushi will open up when the time was right. Oikawa is good at toeing this line. He doesn’t like it, but he knows firsthand what could happen should he try to dive too far into a crack. 

A slightly shaky breath rattles the space between them. “I wasn’t threatened. There was nothing indicating he knows where I am. Nothing to say I’m in any danger of seeing him again.” 

Oikawa glances sidelong, processing the information as calmly as possible. The news could be worse, and he knows Koushi wouldn’t lie to him. Not after what they’ve been through. Leaning his head gently onto Koushi’s slim shoulder, he feels the small flinch under his touch and it has own heart lurching painfully in response. The contact is good for them both, though, and after the briefest of seconds, Koushi relaxes into him with a sigh, leaning his own head down to rest on Oikawa’s. 

They drink their tea in comfortable silence until Koushi sits up again, clearing his throat and speaking with only partially forced playfulness. “So, the uh- grey sweater? Are you trying to look like a sexy librarian? It’s not even close to Halloween yet, Prettykawa.” 

Oikawa looks over, meeting Koushi’s gaze. There’s a quiet ‘thank you’ shining in its warmth. It’s been nearly eight months since they had held each other on Oikawa’s couch, Oikawa sobbing quietly as Koushi struggled to take a full breath. Seeing light back in those eyes any day is a gift, but the moment of vulnerability has passed. It was time to be fun and vapid, which is the best way to help Koushi keep any bad feelings at bay. Tonight was going to be _fun_ , Oikawa would make sure of it. They deserve this. Koushi definitely deserves this. 

Pushing himself off the counter, Oikawa grabs Koushi’s hand, pulling him back towards his closet with newfound determination.

“If you’re not going to let me wear the grey sweater then what do I even have left?! You’ll have me go naked, Koushi-kun!” (not actually the worst idea, he’d definitely get Iwa-chan’s attention at least).

Koushi laughs, a glorious tinkling of windchimes and when Oikawa smiles in response, it’s only tinged with a little sadness.

\---

Outfits carefully picked out and hair styled, Suga looks them both over in the floor-length mirrors of Tooru’s bedroom (one of the best and worst features of the apartments in the place, honestly). Surveying himself carefully he takes inventory. The bright skin, steady hands, and clear eyes; all things he no longer takes for granted. Things he once doubted he’d ever see again.

Forcing the intrusive thoughts back, he focuses instead on his figure-flattering jeans, tapered at the ankle and paired with a loose-fitting black henley Tooru insisted he wear. His hair is half up, an even tinier ponytail than usual at the crown of his head with the rest left to fall softly just above his shoulders. He looks alright, he looks like a normal, adjusted human being. 

Tooru looks him over in the mirror, too, an appreciative smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. 

“You know, if I wasn’t so confident that my height at least gets me noticed first, I might be a little upset with you for looking so good,” he pouts at their reflection in the mirror. 

Suga chuckles easily— even when Tooru is absolutely fishing for compliments, he also means what he says. That’s something a lot of people didn’t know about Tooru. Down past the outward narcissism, the teasing, the brattiness, and the weird obsession with alien movies, he’s an absolute cinnamon bun of a human. 

Taking in his friend’s appearance in the mirror, too, it’s impossible not to notice that Tooru is his own level of stunning. He’s Suga’s inverse in dark jeans and a bright teal v-neck. No sweaters (it’s June, what had he even been thinking?). Fussing with one lock of brown hair he’s futilely trying to tuck into a more pleasing position, the pink tip of his tongue pokes out of his mouth just a little in concentration. 

“You know you look amazing, right?” Suga says seriously. It’s not empty words, Tooru would never stand for that. It’s a true statement. Reaching out, he puts one of his hands gently over the one twined in Tooru’s hair, bringing it down and holding it between his own.

Oikawa smiles back at him in the mirror, only a little bit anxiously. “You think?” 

It’s a real question this time, and not about his looks. There’s a part of Oikawa that needs the validation, needs to hear someone else say the words he often crows about himself. It is a fragile part, a handful of broken feathers on a wing that could still fly, so what’s really the problem? It is a part of Tooru they don’t talk about much, kind of like how they don’t talk about the reason for the texts on Suga’s phone. 

“I don’t think, I know. You’re amazing.” Suga’s gaze is sure as he meets Tooru’s soft chocolate eyes. “What has you all a-flutter about this guy, Tooru? You’ve never bothered your pretty little head over anyone like this before.”

“That’s not true,” Tooru sniffs. “I was obsessed with you from the moment I realized you weren’t interested.” 

That gets a real laugh out of Suga, all the way from deep in his belly. “Tooru! You never were actually interested. You were just mad that I’m cuter than you and double mad when I didn’t immediately fall in love with you.”

Oikawa shrugs noncommittally, feigning disinterest and Suga is sure he’s won. But it does still leave a question yet to be answered. 

“Tooru….. What _are_ you doing with Iwaizumi-san?” He turns to look directly at the taller man, curious but not criticizing. 

With uncharacteristic gracelessness, his friend’s long frame flops onto the bed behind them, effectively dislodging the unruly tuft of hair he’s been fussing with for so long. Looking up to the ceiling his voice comes out small. 

“I don’t know.” 

Sitting down carefully, Suga takes Tooru’s hand back in his own, patting it in a way that his mother used to do for him before.. well before.

“Tooru, yes you do. You do nothing without purpose. Come on, tell me.” He watches his friend close his eyes and take a steadying breath before responding in that same small voice. 

“I… may have been watching him for a while. At the gym, I mean.” 

Suga crooks an eyebrow at that, silently urging Tooru to continue. 

“He’s just…. Well, I mean, it started that he’s just really nice to look at. I mean, those arms, right?” 

Suga hums low, encouraging. 

“And then, the watching kind of turned into noticing.” 

“Noticing?” 

“Yeah.”  
  


“Noticing what, Tooru?”

“Just like… that he’s really kind to all of the elderly members. And he gets really excited when his clients get in that extra set or extra rep they’ve been fighting for. I think I saw him even get a little bit choked up when Rooster-kun hit his sprint goal with the weighted sled thing last month.”

Suga’s smile grows with each word, a waxing moon that brightens the room. “Prettykawa, are you in love?!” 

Oikawa turns onto his side, curling his long frame in tight to bury his face in Suga’s lap. 

“Absolutely not! But… I dunno, Koushi, there’s something about him. Sometimes it just feels like you _know_ , right?” he chokes out a forced laugh. “Oh my god I sound crazy! It’s just his big dumb arms that I like and not the like, fierce pride he obviously takes in his stupid friends and clients.” 

Suga’s smile was still bright, but his voice softened. “Oh, sweet Tooru,” poking at a muscled shoulder he asks playfully, “do you need a wingman tonight? Is that why you had me wear this shirt?”

Oikawa sniffs a little in Suga’s lap. “It shows off your attractive collarbones, I figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

Laughing in delight, Suga leans down to press a kiss to Tooru’s temple as they each happily snuggle into the contact. This– the laughter, the smiles, and the touching has been getting easier and easier and in this moment Suga is extra thankful for Tooru. Those that don’t know him might see the petulance and arrogance he wears like a cape, but _this_ is his Tooru (and maybe could be Iwaizumi’s Tooru? ...it’s a nice thought). 

The jarring sound of a phone buzzing echoes sharply, causing them both to jump. Tooru dislodges himself from Suga’s embrace to crawl across the bed. As he reaches for the offending device Suga notices his hair is now tousled into perfection. 

**INCOMING MESSAGE - OIKAWA’S PHONE**

**Unknown Number** : Oikawa-san? It’s Kuroo, I snagged your number from Iwaizumi’s phone.You know where we’re headed tonight, yeah? 

**Oikawa** : Yes, Rooster-kun! Is 8 still good? 

**Rooster-kun** : You bet. Iwaizumi-san is looking forward to it

 **Oikawa** : Well of course he is!

 **Oikawa** : By the way…. 

**Rooster-kun** : This feels like trouble

 **Rooster-kun** : Also do I get any say in the whole “Rooster-kun” thing? 

**Oikawa** : No ♡ 

**Oikawa** : But like, how “straight” is Closet-kun? 

**Rooster-kun** : Closet.. ? You mean Daichi? ….. Why?

 **Rooster-kun** : Already planning to ditch your wedding date on his birthday? 

**Oikawa** : I would never! Forget I asked, I’ll figure it out. See you sooooon~

Closing his phone, Tooru flashes a brilliant smile at Suga. One that usually indicates Tooru is planning things. Things that may or may be problematic. Dangerous things.

“Tooruuuuu….” Suga drawls out slowly. 

Tooru pays no mind to the apprehension there as he bounces off the bed, grabbing Suga’s wrist and heading towards the front door. Suga holds back a wince but allows himself to be dragged along. 

“Hey! What time are we even supposed to be there?” Suga calls out to his captor, looking at the clock on the hallway wall. 

“Oh, not until 8:00, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get started a little early, right?” 

Suga groans aloud. Oikawa is absolutely planning something. 

\---

It wasn’t that Oikawa had specifically planned to get Koushi (and himself) bombed before they even got to the bar. It just…. Kind of happened? He had actually only meant to grab something special for Iwa-chan and maybe a glass of wine to take the edge off. But, the bartender at their local stop had asked what the occasion was and, unthinkingly, Oikawa replied it was a birthday. 

It turns out that ‘birthdays drink free’, which is a policy Oikawa has never heard of before this day. (But who is he to argue with the flirty wink the new bartender gives him?) Without asking, shots are placed on the counter in front of them, clear liquid sloshing just a bit over the rim of the glasses. 

Eying the shots warily, Oikawa’s gaze catches Koushi’s, and he sees the challenge there. Oikawa isn’t stupid, though. He knows Koushi isn’t gunning to get drunk, (not completely drunk at least). He just wants to loosen up a little and get out of his own head. His perfect cupid’s bow arches up in a responding smile, picking up his shot with a nod. In unison they clink the glasses together and tap them to the bar before taking the shot down in one smooth motion. 

Oikawa feels the clear liquor burn all the way down, a blazing light from tongue to tummy, and as he opens his eyes again it’s to the sight of Koushi undoing the top two buttons of his henley, revealing just a bit of the smooth planes of his chest. So it is going to be _that_ kind of drinking night, is it? 

His jaw clenches momentarily, thinking again about the texts on Koushi’s phone. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Kou was ready for a free fall. Refraining from putting an understanding hand on Koushi’s arm, he turns instead to flirt with the cute bartender. If he flashes another smile while Koushi leans forward like that… yeah Oikawa is confident they can get a few more shots out of her. It _is_ a birthday, after all. 

On cue she blushes, grabbing a bottle and more shot glasses from beneath the bar as Oikawa swivels on his stool to face Koushi with a deviously charming smile.

“Koushi-kun, do you remember that weekend where we got wine drunk and choreographed an entire dance routine to ‘Dynamite’?” 

Koushi’s laugh is immediate and rewarding – they’re going to have a good night. 

\---

**INCOMING MESSAGE - KUROO’S PHONE**

**Thighchi** : Kuroo

 **Kuroo** : Me

 **Thighchi** : You told Oikawa the address of the bar, right? 

**Kuroo** : Yes, dad, I made sure our guests knew were to go

 **Kuroo** : Why? Want to make sure you see a certain someone tonight? 

**Thighchi** : No, shut up. Iwaizumi is into that Oikawa guy, I just want to make sure tonight is good for him. 

**Kuroo** : Yeah, you have absolutely no ulterior motive considering you’ve casually brought up Oikawa-san’s friend at every opportunity

 **Thighchi** : Dude I am not suddenly going to turn gay no matter how much you want that 

**Thighchi** : Also you’re getting cut off after two drinks tonight

 **Kuroo** : I don’t think you’re suddenly going to turn gay, I seriously think you might be Suga-sexual

 **Thighchi** : Keep it up, we can make it 0 drinks

 **Kuroo** : ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

\---

“Iwaizumi, it’s your birthday. Can you please not look like it’s your funeral?” 

Kuroo’s voice is teasing, but the worry sits openly in the crease between his golden eyes. This is supposed to be a fun night. Everyone is gathered to celebrate– Akaashi on Bokuto’s lap at a nearby table, Sawamura at the bar grabbing another round, and their other friends scattered about, talking, drinking… and casting concerned glances at the less-than-festive birthday boy. 

The man in question looks up, eyeing the room warily. He gulps down the last mouthful of the beer in front of him but doesn’t respond. Kuroo rolls his eyes at the surly silence. 

“Are you grumpy because you’re old? Are you grumpy because I invited your boyfriend? Or are you grumpy because your boyfriend isn’t here yet?”

“Ah, I’ll take ‘D’, all of the above.” Sawamura sets down the fresh beers in front of Kuroo and Iwaizumi as Kuroo refrains from making a ‘taking the D’ joke. 

Barely.

Iwaizumi glares at both of them, grumbling about getting new friends. It’s something he threatens to do approximately once a week, so they’re in no real danger… yet. Ignoring Iwaizumi as he glares sullenly at Daichi, he checks his phone again. Where _is_ Iwaizumi’s boyfriend-to-be? It’s already 8:45, and Oikawa-san had been texting him just two short hours ago. He’d dropped a pin with their location and everything.

But, as if the very thought conjures him, the door to the bar bursts open. The warm summer air brings in with it two familiar, very beautiful, very drunk-looking men.

“Iwa-chaaaaaaaaan~ happy birthdaaaay!” Oikawa’s sing-song voice rings out over the bar’s ambient noises, clear as a bell. Maybe he’s not drunk after all? But before that thought is even fully formed, Oikawa trips over a chair on his way over and stumbles into Suga with a hushed snicker. 

Kuroo tenses, glancing down to Iwaizumi, who sits up on his barstool but hasn’t yet turned around. This is either going to be exactly what the night needs, or the end of the night altogether. Iwaizumi’s eyes close as his lips move silently. Is he.. praying? At least his shoulders no longer look tense enough to cause a cramp. 

Feeling a nudge against his ribs, Kuroo looks over to meet Sawamura’s dark eyes. The stockier man looks concerned, which is typical for Dadchi, but the sharp bite to his voice is not.

“Hey,” he murmured to Kuroo, “is he okay?” 

  
Kuroo is about to protest that Iwaizumi is fine— just old and crotchety, when he follows the line of Sawamura’s gaze. His friend isn’t looking at the birthday boy, but towards the doorway. His stomach drops a little, was something wrong? But turning back quickly in alarm, Kuroo sees Oikawa hunched over, giggling madly into the juncture between Suga’s shoulder and neck. In contrast, Suga’s slim shoulders are still. Eyes skipping over all the faces and forms scattered around the dark interior of the bar, there’s an anxious air to him glances around. Kuroo would almost say it was like he’s searching for someone, but it occurs to him that Suga looks more like he’s hoping not to be found.

“Which one? Oikawa-san or Suga-san?” Kuroo asks hesitatingly. Suga is the smaller of the two, sure, and something about the look in his eyes is definitely not right, but Oikawa seems distinctly further along in drunkenness than anyone should be at 8:50pm on a Thursday night. Daichi doesn’t answer, Kuroo sees his mouth tightens at the corners. 

The two newcomers find their way to the bar with no further incidents, however, both dipping into a small bow with wishes of “happy birthday” as they present their gifts. (gifts? they brought gifts?) With a small flourish, Oikawa places a bottle of _very_ nice champagne on the bar. 

Kuroo watches warily as Iwaizumi’s gruff nature wars with his piqued interest, but it’s a quick battle. His better nature claims a rare victory as he the corner of his lips slip upwards minutely.

“What’s this?” His voice seems little softer than normal as he looks at Oikawa. “You know we’re currently at a bar, right? Where there’s already champagne?” 

Bright brown eyes flash with laughter, and something else, as Oikawa responds quickly, “Of course, silly, Iwa-chan. This isn’t for tonight, it’s for your birthday next~ year.” 

Kuroo expects to hear the sound of a long-suffering sigh or barbed insult from Iwaizumi, and he’s not disappointed on the sigh at least. But he is surprised to hear his friend playing along all the same. 

“And why would I need a stupidly nice bottle of champagne to turn 29 next year? Shouldn’t that be something for 30 or some milestone?”

There’s an impressive air of nonchalance and Oikawa even sounds convincingly sober as he replies with a plaintive sniff, “Well I expect you’ll probably have proposed by then, and I’ll want to celebrate with something that doesn’t give me a headache.” 

The bar area falls heavily silent at that announcement. The moment stretches. Too long. Suddenly, the brittle feeling to the air is broken by the sound of Kuroo’s horrible laugh. He doubles over and clutches at his stomach, the noise more akin to a dying hyena than a human laugh, and the absurdity of it has the rest of their companions bursting into relieved laughter with him. 

“Prettykawa, you smooth motherfucker,” Suga shouts happily over the uproar, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes.

Iwaizumi’s tanned skin burns to a deep flush from neck to hairline and he mutters darkly, “Prettykawa? More like Trashykawa, or Shittykawa.” 

Still laughing, eyes dancing, Suga steps forward next, beaming brightly. Had Kuroo really thought he looked haunted just a few moments earlier? He must have imagined it. Handing a small paper bag to Iwaizumi with a wry smile, Suga moves back just a step, allowing Kuroo and Daichi to hover over Iwaizumi and the little parcel. 

By contrast, Oikawa leans back, basking in his accomplishment and swaying _just_ a little. Kuroo is definitely going to have to keep an eye on that. (ugh he had not anticipated babysitting any adult men besides Iwaizumi tonight. the things he does for love.)

The attention turns to Suga as Iwaizumi pulls out a plastic bottle and a small foil packet. The birthday boy looks from Oikawa to Suga, carefully expressionless and still, wary of another trap. 

The caution seems fair as Suga’s eyes still dance, the hazel sparkling grey under the bar’s dim lighting. He gestures to the bottle, “Aspirin, for your headache” and then to the foil packet, “and antacids for your indigestion. You’ll likely have both after spending additional time with Tooru.” 

There’s no pause this time as Suga’s offering sets off a new round of hysterics, and like the first thunderstorm that breaks a heatwave, any remaining tension from Oikawa’s declaration has been successfully dissipated. All the commotion around the bar has drawn in the rest of the celebrators as well, and they’re surrounded by more bodies wishing Iwaizumi a happy birthday, all guarded caution around his bad attitude finally gone following the rainfall of laughter. The relief at seeing the birthday boy smiling is nearly palpable, and drinks clink together in high spirits all around. 

Taking stock, Kuroo sees Iwaizumi flash his rare, real grin at Suga, before tensing slightly as Oikawa nudges between the two to slip his arm around Iwa’s shoulders. Iwaizumi may look aggrieved, but there’s a good chance that’s just his face. He doesn’t shrug Oikawa off. 

Feeling eyes on his back, Kuroo turns around to meet the unsettling direct stare Akaashi levels at him. In silence they agree, _this_ is interesting. 

Suga steps back further, presumably to give Oikawa’s flirtations some space, and Kuroo’s observations follow the motion. As he quietly watches, Suga’s attention lands on Daichi, who’s busying himself tucking away the bottle of champagne safely below the bar. As Daichi looks up, Suga favors him with a soft, grateful smile. Even in the dark lighting Kuroo doesn’t miss how Daichi’s eyes widen, or how his gaze drops quickly to the exposed skin below Suga’s throat before snapping back up with a light flush rising on his own neck. 

Kuroo feels the slender fingers of Akaashi’s grip on his elbow and knows his friend has seen this development as well. Every time these two show up, it’s like his generally-capable fellow adults become particularly stupid and incompetent. It’s a little frustrating, sure, but mostly it’s fantastic. 

The music overhead changes, an odd swap from the usual soft background ambiance to something more upbeat, but vaguely familiar. Before Kuroo can turn to the kids behind the bar to question it, a resounding shriek splits the air. Everyone turns with a start as Suga and Oikawa grab each other’s hands, scrambling out of the circle of gathered men to the only cleared space at the bar- too tiny to be called a dance floor, really, especially when no one had ever danced on it outside of a dare (and Kuroo prefers not to remember that particular event, thank you). 

But then to everyone’s surprise, despite its size and history of neglect, it _is_ suddenly a dance floor and Oikawa and Suga are a two-man J-Pop group. 

Kuroo isn’t able to tear his eyes away, and even if he wanted to, it’s easy to tell from the stillness around him that everyone’s attention is focused on the two newcomers alone. They’re all seeing something this bar has never seen before: actual grown men dancing. Judging by how Iwaizumi shifts uncomfortably on his stool, they’re all having a similar reaction, too.

With the confidence born of alcohol or practice (Kuroo can’t be sure, but he’d take a bet that it’s both) they move together fluidly. As if seeing Oikawa and Suga at the gym hadn’t been distracting enough, now they were all rolling hips, swirling hair, and lean muscle. Despite the late hour of the evening, it’s still warm inside the bar, the air conditioning only dulling the most oppressive of the heat, and a soft sheen of sweat appears over their exposed skin as they move, but they’re smiling. Oh _wow_ are they smiling. The bar might be dark, but no one could miss the graceful way Oikawa’s arms following his movements, or how Suga’s smile shone like a star.

It’s a sudden realization that hits Kuroo with all the force of a shot of gin (Iwaizumi’s favorite, the old bastard, not Kuroo’s preferred liquor by any means). But as he watches, as he feels his own body and heart respond to what he’s seeing, there’s a deep reverberation within him that says this is something important— that these men are something important. It’s all been a playful bet with Akaashi up until now, but maybe it needs to be something more. Not between himself and Akaashi, no. But for his friends. His gaze tears away from the dance floor, sweeping over first Iwaizumi and then Sawamura. The awestruck shine to Iwaizumi’s eyes, and Daichi’s own slack jawed stare tells him all he needs to know about trusting his intuition.

The melody hits its crescendo and the dancers strike a final pose before nearly collapsing on each other in laughter. Suga’s hair is a little damp from the humidity, curling sweetly around his face, and Oikawa’s smooth skin glows with exertion. Their chests heave panted breaths, and as the song fades into nothing, there’s a new silence. Not the careful, cautious one after Oikawa’s champagne dreams, but something warm and exciting— like the bar itself can feel what Kuroo knows and is eager to encourage them on.

A number of the partygoers rush out to the newly christened dance floor, embolden by the atmosphere. Their tiny redhead friend/bar employee excitedly asks Oikawa and Suga to teach him a few of their dance moves and a few others nod along with obvious hope. The dancers laugh obligingly, Suga reaching out to ruffle fluffy red hair. Oikawa wastes no time, showing off some of the simpler footwork steps while Suga demonstrates a body roll with the air of someone who knows exactly what effect this would have on a room full of gay men. 

Kuroo hadn’t taken Suga to be the type so content at the center of attention, but he notices the bright glaze of the hazel eyes and thinks he might understand what helped... loosen up his buttons – literally and figuratively. 

“Hey, Sa’amura, what do you think about watering down the pretty boys’ drinks?”

No response. Strange. Turning, Kuroo finds the silence easy to explain. He’s the last idiot standing at the bar. Well, save for Iwa, who is still sitting, and that makes him an even bigger idiot. But that means.. ? 

Holy shit. 

That means Daichi is on the dance floor already? 

His eyes widen in the purest shock he’s ever felt. Sawamura _is_ on the dance floor with Suga’s hands on his shoulder and hip. It looks like he’s trying to learn how to swivel his thick body along with Oikawa’s footwork. Kuroo starts to groan, once again asking himself where Akaashi found these guys. His groan is cut off, however, as he remembers his wager. He should have bet Akaashi on Suga’s ability to get Daichi to a dance floor, too. (hindsight, damn).

Another lively song comes on and Kuroo shoots a wink at the ever-observant bar manager, knowing this musical continuation is his doing. Pushing off the bar, he grabs Iwaizumi’s hand. The birthday boy could do with some dancing, and from the way he’s practically been leering at Oikawa, Kuroo would put any wager down that he isn’t even going to put up a fight on this one. Besides, Kuroo is fairly handy on the dance floor himself, and he can’t let these pretty boys show him up on his own turf. 

Cheers rise up from the small crowd of men as Kuroo and Iwaizumi join them, and Sawamura of all people motions to the bar to turn the music up. 

\---

It’s well past midnight and newly-28 Iwaizumi Hajime is drunk. Not so drunk he won’t remember the night tomorrow, but drunk enough that the permanent line between his brows has softened and he’s seeing things with a slightly fuzzy edge. He remembers saying goodbye to some of his friends as they peeled off, most of them having early hours tomorrow. Bokuto and Akaashi had even hugged him, promising to have everyone over for dinner soon. 

There are a few unfinished drinks scattered about the table where the last surviving members of the party sit. It’s been a nice night, Iwa thinks. Seeing friends, drinking for free, and actually feeling… relaxed? Yeah, it’s been a really nice night. 

In the back of his mind a blurry thought forms, whispering that there’s a chance he’s thinking this way because of Oikawa’s hand resting on Iwaizumi’s leg under the table, his fingers brushing over Iwaizumi’s thigh in long, distracting strokes. Iwa could say something. He probably should. But that same fuzzy voice (which sounds annoyingly like Kuroo) asks if it’s worth causing a fuss, because Oikawa is definitely the type to make a scene. He might as well soak it all in while the guy is still interested, anyways. 

He leans forward, trying to catch what Kuroo and Sawamura are arguing about and quiet that little voice, but it’s too difficult to keep up. Iwaizumi shakes his head a little – he must be more drunk than he thought. Across from him, Sugawara-san has his head resting on his arms, breathing evenly, and apparently asleep. (what time is it? 1:40am? oh fuck.)

Following Iwaizumi’s glance, Daichi looks over at Suga and checks the time, too, with a softly uttered curse. 

“Shit, we gotta get you guys home. You’re all going to be wrecked for work tomorrow,” his gentle baritone rolls across the table, and it stirs Suga from sleep. 

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, “which home, Tooru? Yours or mine?”

Sawamura blanches, eyes turning on Oikawa who giggles helplessly for a moment. Returning to himself, he meets Sawamura’s gaze coyly, responding from under his lashes, “Don’t worry Closet-kun, we live on the same floor. Safety in numbers and all that.” 

Iwaizumi’s brows knit together slowly as he looks to Kuroo, a similar expression on his friend’s face. (Closet-kun? safety in numbers? what does that all mean?) He goes to stand, swaying a bit as he realizes he’s definitely well past that 6th drink Sawamura promised to cut them all off at. 

Oikawa’s hand falls off of his leg at the movement, which he realizes with a sudden rush of cool air and belated regret. Clearing his throat to mask the feeling, he’s pleased when his voice comes out only slightly slow, but mostly clear. “I’ll get you boys home. C’mon.” 

A snort from the other side of the table has Iwaizumi’s head whipping around and(- oh god, fuck, everything is spinning now). A deep rumble of laughter follows that as Iwa’s head settles back into focus. 

“Iwaizumi, you’re in no better shape than these two are. I’ll get you home.” Daichi speaks with quiet authority, ever the responsible one of the group. He eyes Oikawa’s height and wandering hands with some trepidation. “Kuroo, maybe you can see the boys home?” 

Kuroo stands with a chuckle. “Sawamura, are you asking me to see two stunning, very drunk individuals back to their homes? You give my stamina a lot of credit.” 

There’s a clatter as Iwaizumi falls over a chair, indignant. (wait. why is he indignant?) It strikes him suddenly that there’s a good chance he is a _lot_ more drunk than he’d thought. (exactly how many drinks past 6 is he? —on second thought, he’s not sure he wants to know.)

Eyeing him with a wry smile, Kuroo pulls Iwaizumi to his feet again. “Don’t worry, birthday boy. I won’t make any moves on your boyfriend. He’s too lanky for me anyways.” 

A somewhat concerning amount of relief floods Iwaizumi, washing away any irritation he should have felt. However, both feelings are dulled as he notices Sawamura’s frown. They all look down to a very sleepy Suga still resting on the table with his head pillowed on his arms.

Kuroo lifts an eyebrow and catches Daichi’s gaze seriously. “And Suga-san here is far too sweet to make a move on in this state, I’d end up feeling like I’d need to take responsibility and make an honest man out of him.” 

Disguising his own relief, Daichi busies himself slinging Iwaizumi’s arm around his shoulders. With no further ado, Iwa feels himself propelled upwards with a strong, warm body keeping him upright. Their position is more familiar than he’d like to admit, though he’s somewhat mollified to acknowledge it has been a while since they’d been here. It feels like some kind of growth. 

Sawamura also grabs the small paper bag and Iwa chuckles lowly, thankful for Suga’s joke and Daichi’s clear head. He’ll be needing that tonight for sure. His vision blurs over a little more as he moves with Daichi towards the exit, and he thinks again that this has been a particularly good birthday. His gruff voice makes it back to the table, almost soft enough that it could have been only intended for himself to hear. 

“G’night, Shittykawa.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t see Oikawa’s expression light up, but he hears the delighted gasp and chuckles again as the door to the bar closes behind them, Sawamura’s uncompromising bulk half dragging him into a cab. 

\---

Waving one hand at his friends as they leave, Kuroo smiles to himself- not missing how Sawamura’s gaze lingers with concern, and something more, on the unmoving figure at their table before he let the door close. Turning to Oikawa-san, Kuroo finds him watching Iwaizumi’s retreating back with a pout, the delight of the birthday boy’s goodnight wearing off as he realizes they’re going home separately. 

“Don’t worry Oikawa-san, he’s much better in bed when he’s not drunk anyways.” 

Oikawa still manages to sound like he’s propositioning Kuroo, somehow smooth despite the fact that he had been scream-yelling on the dancefloor just an hour or so ago. 

“Just ‘Oikawa’ is fine, Rooster-kun. You’re about to carry me to bed, aren’t you? Seems silly to waste time on honorifics.” 

Ignoring the intended innuendo and looking at Oikawa’s long frame clinically, Kuroo wonders if he _could_ carry the man. Thankfully he’s saved from that prospect as Oikawa stands up, surprisingly steady on his feet. 

He kneels next to Suga, who had managed to sleep through the parting exchanges, whispering softly to his friend. 

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star. Time to get up and head home, Koushi-kun.” 

Suga sits up, blinking sleeping and, Jesus Christ, these doe eyes of his. Kuroo thought they had been potent while Suga was dancing and laughing, but the way he looks now should be illegal. It’s a shame Sawamura hadn’t stayed to see this. 

“Suga-san, are you ready to head home? I’m going to make sure you guys get in safely,” Kuroo’s voice is gentle. He’s reluctant to interrupt the intimate moment between Suga and Oikawa, but he’s also becoming increasingly aware that the bar employees are trying to close the place down. 

“Mmmm?” is the half-coherent reply. “No, ‘s just Suga. Carry me, K’roo?” 

Kuroo sighs and grumbles about men who might be a little _too_ accustomed to being swept off their feet, but at least Suga is significantly more compact than Oikawa. Looking to Oikawa again, he sees something like worry flash across his face. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop him or do anything untoward.” Kuroo means for his smile to be reassuring, but he’s not entirely sure it works. All the same, Oikawa nods, and pulls his friend gently into standing. Kneeling down, Kuroo lets Suga slump over his back and he lifts the smaller man into a piggy-back position, grunting slightly in surprise. 

“Why are you this heavy? You’re tiny compared to me.” 

Suga scoffs, apparently alert enough to be offended. 

“..’m very strong. Lots of yoga.” 

Kuroo chuckles, “Of course you are, babe.” 

Once outside, Oikawa directs Kuroo towards their apartment building, which is thankfully just a few blocks away. They make the walk as an odd trio; Oikawa leading and stumbling only a little, and Kuroo following with Suga securely stowed on his back.

It’s kind of nice, actually. Kuroo has been so used to Sawamura taking care of them all that, given the opportunity, he’s a little proud to see he can do the group-dad-thing, too. Hoisting Suga a little higher, he makes small talk, asking Oikawa questions about him and Suga. He learns about Suga’s Saturday yoga classes and that Oikawa played volleyball through college like Bokuto did, even though Oikawa’s knee kept him from going pro. 

Kuroo listens, storing all this information in a little file in his mind, more of his plot coming together. It’s been a while since he’s come out on top in his betting history with Akaashi, but Akaashi is finally going to live to regret one, he has a good feeling.

\---

They make it to the apartment building with little incident, and Oikawa manages to unlock the front door with minimal fumbling of keys. Trudging up the up three flights of stairs, Oikawa lets them into the third apartment on the left, his own. 

“Thank you, Rooster-kun. You can put that sleepy little pile of gay down in my bed, last door on the left,” he directs Kuroo to the back of the apartment.

Kuroo looks at him questioningly and Oikawa raises a responding eyebrow slowly.

“What? You’re telling me you don’t sleep better with someone next to you? Suga won’t cuddle with me sober, I have to take what I can get.” 

This gets a quiet laugh in response as Kuroo obediently makes his way to the bedroom (not in the way he’s used to, albeit). As he goes to set Suga down, though, he hears a soft voice near his ear. 

“Ple’se, my bed? Oikawa.. cuddles too much, ‘s too hot fr that.” 

With a sigh (he hadn’t exactly intended to be a pack mule tonight) Kuroo asks for Suga’s keys, which he promptly procures and hands off over Kuroo’s shoulder. Walking back through the kitchen, Suga mumbles a goodbye to Oikawa, promising to stop by in the morning. Oikawa walks them to the door, leaning against the frame with that look of concern back in his eyes. 

“Hey,” Kuroo says softly as they leave, “I really won’t do anything, I promise I’m not a bad guy.” 

Oikawa blinks at him, shaking his head slightly as if seeing someone else in his place for a moment. His response is equally soft. “I know… you have my number Kuroo-san. Please call or text me if you need anything.” 

Kuroo takes that as odd, but considering Oikawa is still drunk on his feet he lets it go, making his way to the fifth door on the right, Suga’s apartment. 

Letting them in, he follows the same layout as Oikawa’s place to find Suga’s bedroom. Compared to Oikawa’s messy bed, Suga’s is neatly made with soft pillows and plush blankets. It was no wonder the guy wants to come back here instead.

Kuroo settles him down softly, and Suga immediately rolls to his side, pulling a pillow in close. He hums a little sigh as he shifts, not opening his eyes as he murmurs, “Thanks, babe.” 

It’s endearing as fuck. Smiling, Kuroo pads back into the kitchen and rummages around to find a glass he fills with water, and even manages to procure a similar small bottle of aspirin to what Suga had brought tonight. Bringing those back to Suga’s room, he sets them on his bedside table, and looks at Suga’s shoes (no one _likes_ to sleep with shoes on, right?). He starts to unlace them, tugging at the left one. 

That’s when the screaming begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _runs and hides_  
>  OKAY SEE YOU IN A WEEK, BYE
> 
> ——  
> I will forever owe my soul (what’s left of it) to [ Andie ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireHeartAW/pseuds/FireHeartAW) and [ Deen ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormydeen/pseuds/wormydeen) for beta reading this monster and my thousands of errors. You two are the backbone of my society and I don’t have enough words to tell you what your help means to me.


End file.
